Endless Numbered Days
by Fatal Yaoi
Summary: Chris wakes up in his old S.T.A.R.S apartment with Captain Albert Wesker at his door- after already living the fifteen years of his life after any of this actually happened. Is he living some weird dream or has he actually been sent back in time? (Non-Supernatural) Eventual Chris/Wesker Post RE6
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil. If I did, Wesker would rule the world with Chris as his sex slave. But that's only because I've been watching too much Spartacus lately. Yess._

**Author's Note: Here is a commission written for Decapitated Panda that took far too long for me to finish of which I'm turning into a series! Hope you all enjoy! Every Saturday, a new chapter will be released and this will be quite a long story with possibly a sequel if you guys want one. **

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**All Truth Is Simple, Is That Not Doubly A Lie?**

**-_Unknown_**

Chris nudged open the front door of his apartment and stumbled inside. Jill's grip on his upper arm hardened and she sighed as she threw her hand against the wall and hit the light switch. They had just entered Chris' flat which was a simple studio. Chris's bed was beside the brown couch that sat directly in front of them. His bed was unmade and the blankets were tossed around as if barely used. The kitchen was to the left with a pile of dirty dishes in the sink and a mix of clean and dirty pots piled on the stove. To the right was a door that led to the bathroom and that was Chris' flat.

The floor was littered with clothing both clean and dirty and Jill secretly wished she could see the brown carpet she knew hid beneath it all. A desk was pressed against the wall beside Chris' bed and Jill sighed when she saw the shirt covered his open laptop. The apartment lacked any personal belongings; no pictures of family or friends. It was just a place for him to sleep, eat, and wash himself. It wasn't _home_.

"Come on, Chris," Jill sighed as she led him to his bed.

"S'all my fault, y'know," he muttered in a slur.

"You're drunk, Chris. You aren't making any sense," Jill stated almost robotically before letting him go on his bed. He fell and accepted the position he fell in choosing not to move when Jill sat in the broken computer chair beside him. "What have you done to yourself, Chris?"

"He'd be so disappointed," Chris ranted. "He'd hate me…. Like the day he found me."

"Who are you ranting about, Chris?" Jill asked carefully.

"Piers."

Jill was taken aback by the confession.

Chris hadn't spoken of Piers in months. The brunet had barely spoken of that day to anyone, including Jill, and suddenly he wouldn't shut up about it. There were tears in his eyes as his head turned into his pillow and he slammed his fist against the cushion drunkenly. There was only so much he could do and crying had never been an option. He _watched_ Piers sacrifice himself and Chris hadn't cried. The BSAA held a funeral of sorts, and still he did not cry.

"He didn't—He didn't deserve it. _I_ did, Jill! I should have died!" Most of Chris' words were slurred and muffled due to the pillow over his mouth but Jill heard enough.

"He died because he was protecting his captain. He died and saved the world, Chris. Piers Nivans is a hero and you need to see that he saw potential in you and you are letting it go to waste. I love you, Chris, but you are killing yourself this way. You're right, Piers wouldn't be happy, but he would _keep trying_ because Piers cared for you and still does wherever he is."

Chris tilted his head from the pillow and pushed himself into a sitting position. He closed his eyes and stabilized himself. His fists opened and closed and he got a handful of pillowcase. He opened his eyes and met Jill's confused but stern face and with a grunt, spoke.

"He's dead, Jill. He doesn't do anything anymore."

* * *

Waking up, Chris passively wondered when he had fallen asleep. He kept his eyes shut out of fear that light would give him the searing headache he fully expected to erupt the moment his eyelids rose. He couldn't hear shuffling of any sort and assumed Jill left the previous night. He groaned as he was suddenly aware of the muscles aching in their joints and he wondered if he took a fall that he couldn't remember.

With a deep sigh, he opened one eye and his blurry morning gaze fell on the ceiling. Another eye opened and he grunted in appreciation for the lack of forehead splitting pain. His head fell to the left and his eyes found something he truly didn't expect—a closet.

He didn't _have_ a closet; especially not one with two sliding doors.

No, he had a dresser.

Chris sat up and his bare feet touched soft carpet; he didn't have soft carpet either. He had gross, brown carpet that hadn't been changed since the late seventies. And he was pretty sure he fell asleep with shoes on.

Looking around, his eyes found an old Windows desktop on a desk in the corner beside the closet, a dresser beside his bed, and a thick brown television atop a second dresser. This wasn't his flat but it certainly wasn't Jill's either.

He stood and found himself lacking the usual dizziness he felt from drinking but instead felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. He had been here before in this very spot; he remembered the bed, the closet, and the television but where was he? Why was everything so familiar?

He grunted under his breath and took long striding steps towards the door before opening, almost hesitantly. He poked his head out and looked down the hall where he could see a bathroom and the split between the living room and the kitchen.

"H-Hello?" he called before sucking his bottom lip between his teeth.

No response.

He slipped out of the door and took two steps into the hallway, his head peeking into the dark bathroom before continuing. He reached the end of the hall and straightened in his spot as his eyes fell on the living room that he suddenly remembered.

A brown suede couch was pressed against the opposite wall. Two windows with closed vertical blinds and the front door also shared the wall. Across from the couch was the big screen television—the television Claire bought him when he told her STARS approved his resume and he would be an official member. A shelf sat just above the television, about a foot from the ceiling, that held pictures; There was one of Claire's high school graduation, one of he and Jill, and the last was the STARS team taken three months after the beginning of STARS.

This was _his_ living room.

This was _his _living room from STARS.

Chris ignored the remainder of the house and quickly rushed into the dining room. The table pressed against the wall held fruit and tossed mail from the day before. A puppy calendar, hung by Claire, was nailed to the wall above the table.

_March_.

Chris pulled the calendar from the wall, ripping the top and leaving it pinned to the wall, and looked at the front of the calendar.

_1997_.

It had been a year since STARS was created.

But _how_?

A heavy knocking startled him and he was on his way to his front door. Without thinking, he opened his door and found Albert Wesker standing at his door. Albert was wearing his STARS uniform, what he usually wore in office, with his blonde hair gelled back and sunglasses in place over his nose. His thin lips twisted into a smirk as he lowered his sunglasses to the tip of his nose and gave Chris a once over with his dull grey eyes.

"Wesker," Chris growled.

"Mr. Redfield," the blonde stated and his eyes traveled south yet again.

Chris followed his eyes and found himself in his boxers—_only_ his boxers.

"Oh."

"I suppose you aren't ready, then?" the blond asked.

"Ready for what?" Chris asked before shifting uncomfortably in his spot.

"Work, Christopher. You requested a ride yesterday, did you not?"

Chris nodded slowly, eyeing the blond carefully. Even in his tired state, a plan was hatching within his mind. Albert Wesker didn't know Chris was fully aware of his plan and Chris was going to stop him before anything occurred. Chris placed a cold smile on his lips and stepped aside, opening his door wider.

"Sorry, Captain, I had a hard night. I'll run and get ready. Come on in."

"Very well, I suppose," the blond muttered and slipped inside.

Chris closed the door and turned on his heel.

"I'll be back. Again, sorry," Chris stated and took large strides back to his room.

Chris shut his door and pressed his back against the wall, chills running up his back as his warm back collided with the cold door. He took deep breaths and began looking around, finding his gun where it usually was—his desk. He set the handgun down and quickly dressed into his work clothes while he mused over his many options.

Simply killing Wesker now would raise questions in places where questions truly shouldn't be raised. His entire team would see him as the traitor and he would become a fugitive which was _not_ an option.

He needed proof of Umbrella's involvement in the mansion far up in the mountains and he could go up that weekend to check it out, possibly with Jill. Until then, he would need to play STARS Chris Redfield.

A thought loomed in the back of his mind that scared him far more than he would ever let on. What if every little detail in his life that he currently had, was a dream? An incredibly vivid, drunken dream? He was sure his current situation wasn't a dream but that didn't mean his anxiety didn't fuck with him.

Chris tucked his gun into his holster and crossed from his bedroom to the bathroom where he quickly splashed water over his short hair. He eyed himself in the mirror, nodded to himself, and slipped out of the bathroom to find Albert Wesker standing stock still in the place Chris had left him.

"You're not the greatest guest, are you?" Chris muttered, a hand hovering on his hip beside the gun available to him.

"I suppose not."

* * *

Driving to the police department, Chris felt far too tense. The amount of knowledge he held with Albert completely unbeknownst to it made the brunet smile in dark ways. The blond would not win this time. Chris didn't _care_ how he managed to go back in time or whatever was going on but he was going to fix things.

"What did your night consist of?" Albert asked, most likely to fight the awkward air.

"Dreams about betrayal, friends dying, STARS crumbling—"

"Seems you have some subconscious issues to deal with."

"My issues _aren't_ subconscious. I am aware of my issues and plan on dealing with them accordingly."

"It seems you have it planned out," Albert stated.

"Yeah, you have to when you're dealing with things as tricky as dreams," Chris muttered and shifted his grip on the top of his handgun.

Albert hummed in response and pulled into the station. He parked in the space with his name on it and turned off the car. He unbuckled his seatbelt before saying, "Christopher, before we go—"

"Yeah?" Chris asked, halfway out of the door.

Albert kept an eye on him and Chris sighed, pulling himself back into the car and shutting the door.

"Yes, Captain?"

"I fear your dream has caused high hostility towards me. I'm going to have to ask you to stop."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Captain," Chris muttered, eyes forward and fingers dancing on his hip.

"Your hand hasn't left your gun, you refuse to look at me, and you sound as if it pains you to call me by my title. But please, insist you don't know what I speak of," Albert stated.

Chris twisted his head to look at Albert and he felt a rush of disgust and anger. He looked away and took a deep breath. The blond made an understanding noise and shook his head.

"Is this going to be a problem, Christopher?"

"No, I'll be fine. Just give me a few hours. The dream was just…. Really vivid."

"Most nightmares are," Albert sighed. "Very well. However, today is one of our hand-to-hand exercises. I hope you are able to look beyond the dream by then."

"I will, Captain," Chris whispered, his eyes in his lap.

"It was just a dream, Chris," the blond said hopefully and patted Chris on the shoulder, making the brunet jump and grab for his gun before realizing the blond wasn't trying to strangle him. "It was a dream, Christopher. We have work to do."

"Fine."

The anger coursing through Chris was fluid and the brunet was momentarily deaf as the blood pounding in his ears made him lightheaded. He had to look at this from a Captain point of view—the captain Piers wanted him to be. He had to be levelheaded and not ruin anything.

This could prevent everything.

Walking up to the old police department caused a deep root of guilt rush through him. The last time he had been here, he had just lost over half of his closest friends and was leaving Raccoon City behind. Soon after, the town was gone. And now he found himself walking into the building beside the man behind it all.

He was beginning to feel sick again as a strong sense of nostalgia washed over him.

He led the way through the station until they reached the STARS Alpha office. The hallways felt so familiar yet he forgot where most of the doors led. He even stuck his head into some of the open ones to find remarkably recognizable rooms. The blond simply allowed Chris to do it, his eyebrow raised with his hands locked behind his back as they walked and sometimes stopped.

Stepping into the office, however, he knew exactly what was going to happen but not before it actually happened, of course.

Jill slapped him.

Chris reeled as the mix of déjà vu and pain made him suddenly very lightheaded. A flash of memories suddenly became apparent to him as, word for word, he could recall what Jill was going to say next as she said it.

"You bastard!" She snapped.

Jill Valentine had taken a really, really long time to warm up to Chris. It was far from an instant connection after this incident and Chris constantly took verbal beatings from the woman until he saved her on one of their missions. She forgave him after that and they grew close but she joked with him often about it and refused to ever let the male forget what he had done.

By the time Chris recovered from the hit, her arms were crossed and her icy glare had transformed into a guilty face as she glanced at their captain. His cheek stung from impact and a hand covered it delicately as he exchanged glances with Wesker.

"Miss Valentine—"

"No, it's fine," Chris mumbled as he rubbed at his cheek. "I stood her up on a date last night."

"Expressing your anger in the workplace is unprofessional, Miss Valentine. If you wish to do bodily harm to Mr. Redfield, please do it outside," Wesker stated with an appreciative nod. "Also, I would avoid dating within the workplace but I suppose that won't be much of an issue." Wesker paused and smirked at Jill's red cheeks before beginning to walk away. "Our meeting begins at noon. Please be present, angry or not."

Wesker vanished into his office and closed his door, leaving Jill, Chris, and the remainder of Alpha in the office. Coworkers among the office continued about their business, typing away at desktops around the room. It was dead silent besides the clicking of keyboard keys one after another as reports, or random words in cases like Brad who enjoyed drama.

"How _dare_ you?" Jill hissed.

"I was a little preoccupied last night," Chris said lamely though he truly could not remember what the event had been that forced him to completely forget the date.

"Doing what? What was so important that you left me sitting in a restaurant in a skin tight dress for two hours with an underwire digging so deep into my underarm, I bled? This isn't counting the two hours I took trying to get ready for your sorry ass—" Oh yes, Chris remembered this.

"So what do you want me to do, Jill? I'm sorry but maybe W—_Captain_ Wesker is right. Dating in the workplace just isn't a good idea," Chris stated.

"Oh no, I don't mind dating in the workplace. I just won't be dating _you_ and considering I'm the only woman on STARS… well… have fun with Barry," she sneered before storming towards her desk and away from Chris.

"Hey, I'm married! Don't bring me into this," Barry chimed from his desk.

Chris looked from Barry, who exchanged glances with him, to Jill who was physically shaking with anger. He felt guilty but there was far too much going on. He didn't understand what could be possibly going on but he knew it wasn't good. He didn't remember quite a lot of things from STARS, what happened next, being one of them. He wanted to do exactly what he had done before, he realized changing anything could put him into some trouble and it didn't help that he thought of himself as a different person than he was in this moment.

Chris sunk into his chair and sighed. This was bad.

The one person he trusted to tell exactly what was going on currently hated him and his mortal enemy was his superior.

Now, he just had to remember what he had done _exactly_ to get Jill un-mad at him which would be far more difficult than it should be considering she was his best friend but he was a guy, after all.

"Chris?" it was Barry—right, they were actually pretty close during this time. Chris had long lost touch with him after the Raccoon City incident but Chris was sure he was doing well with his family, he just wanted to stay away from the B.O.W business and Chris respected that.

"Yeah, Barry?"

"Are you okay? You seem really out of it and you never would have passed a date with Jill, busy or not. Is something going on? Is Claire okay?"

Claire! Right, she was in college. Chris could always talk to her.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Barry." Chris said with a quick smile. "Claire's fine but I do miss her. I just think I shouldn't be dating right now. I have a lot to build with my career and if something was to happen to me—" Chris trailed off with a sigh. "I think I'm going to fly Claire down and spend some time with her for the holidays."

"I think that would be a good idea but you know how the captain is about holidays—just be careful with how you go about it."

"Thanks, Barry. How's your wife?"

Chris knew the answer to this.

"She's good, worries about me a lot, though," Barry sighed and crossed his arms.

"At least you know she cares," Chris said with a shrug and a laugh.

"Yeah but sometimes it makes me want to spend a little extra time at the shooting range, you know?"

Chris really didn't know.

"Yeah, I know," Chris faked a laugh.

"Redfield!"

Chris cringed—Albert Wesker hadn't said his name like that since, well, now.

"He doesn't seem to be in the best of moods," Barry muttered. "G'luck."

Chris hummed in response and stood. He made his way to the blonde's office and peaked inside—just like he remembered it, empty of all personal items, dark, and piles of paper stacked in various spots across the desk. Wesker sat behind the desk, sunglasses in place and a stack of papers in front of him.

"Yes, Captain?" The word felt dirty to his mouth.

This man was the reason ninety percent of his co-workers will die in less than two years. This man is planning to completely betray them. This man who will also die in less than two years before being reborn into just another one of the B.O.W monsters.

Albert Wesker.

"You didn't submit the required paperwork from the Harker drug bust."

It was such a simple request from a boss but from Albert Wesker it felt like a giant, stabbing lie that was making its way through Chris' soul. How exactly was he supposed to just play it cool?

"Uh yeah, I should have it in my desk."

He sure as hell hoped he did because he definitely didn't remember a damn thing about that drug bust.

"Submit it immediately, please," Wesker commanded politely.

Chris nodded and was about to turn around and leave but he stopped—Wesker saw this.

"Something else, Redfield?"

"Do you know Sherry Birkin?" Chris asked carefully.

Wesker froze and Chris realized just how stupid the question was—Sherry Birkin was William Birkin's daughter and William Birkin was the one who created the G-virus and worked with Umbrella and Wesker himself. In reality, Chris just wanted to make sure Sherry was okay but he supposed that was Leon's jurisdiction, not his.

"Nevermind," Chris said with a shrug. "I shouldn't have asked."

"How do you know Miss Birkin?"

"I don't—" Oh god, he needed a lie. "My sister knows her and apparently she talked about you. She babysat her when she was younger." Does that lie work? Chris quickly did the math in his head—yeah, Sherry was nine, that could work.

"I don't recall her parents hiring a babysitter…" Wesker trailed off carefully.

The bastard was trying to catch Chris in his lie.

"Well, they did. Claire said they work a lot and needed someone to watch her but apparently she knew you. I was just curious," Chris said with a shrug. "I'll go get that paper."

Leon and Claire would handle it when it came time, for now, Chris had an entire team to worry about.

* * *

**So I'm not even completely finished with this story as I should be but hopefully I won't fall behind. If I do, I'll just break it up into more parts than I have already broken it up into. Currently, it will be a two part story. A third may be added. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed it and whether I get any reviews on this or not, another will be up next Saturday!**

**-Fatal Yaoi**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: I'm already super behind because I decided to redesign the entire story like yesterday. Might be broken into a few parts, guys!**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

**A Good Plan Violently Executed Now Is Better Than A Perfect Plan Executed Next Week**

**-_George S Patton_**

Chris had his head in his hands, elbows digging into the tops of his thighs as he sighed heavily. After gaining a paper cut by one of the stacks of paper he was moving from his desk, he realized just how far deep into shit he was. It wasn't a dream. It wasn't a fucking dream. This was his life so now he sat in a bathroom stall with his head in his hands while his mind quickly began running out of options.

Chris thought of killing Wesker. The blond could be stopped if he didn't see it coming, of course, but what would that mean for Chris? His colleagues would catch him within days and he would be punished and Umbrella would continue on. Even if he _could_ kill Wesker without his colleagues finding out, Wesker was their connection to Umbrella—his only connection. If he was going to take them down, Wesker needed to be alive; for now.

He could warn his colleagues but with no proof there was little to tell. Jill would prefer to see Chris fired than to even consider what he said and Barry wouldn't risk his job to back him with no evidence. Chris didn't blame him, of course, he would do the same.

There was only way of going about this—Treat it like he _had_ lived it before. Use his knowledge to throw Wesker off his guard maybe outsmart him at his own game. If it was one thing Chris hated, it was playing one of Wesker's games but Chris could make it his now.

"Hey, Chris, you in here?"

It was Barry's voice echoing in the bathroom.

"Yeah, sorry, got distracted," Chris spoke simply as he pushed out of the bathroom stall.

"With what, exactly?" Barry asked with a chuckle.

Chris laughed and shook his head.

"I keep getting distracted with my thoughts. Like I said before, I miss Claire."

Barry chuckled and crossed his arms.

"Well, Captain has his demo today. You know how he is about those things."

Chris actually didn't remember them in the slightest. They simply didn't stand out in his mind and these demonstration classes seemed fairly new from the responses of the team as he and Barry arrived to the basement of the Raccoon City Police Department. It was a gym of sorts built specifically for the STARS team to practice. A room off to the right of the large room led to the shooting range used by the entire department and a room to the left led to the locker rooms. Wesker stood in front of blue cushioned pads on the ground covering a large area.

Joseph, Jill, and Brad were already awaiting Barry and Chris and it seemed Chris was actually the one holding them up.

Wesker gave an unappreciative smirk and hooked his hands behind his back at Chris' entrance beside Barry.

"Now that you've finally graced us with your presence, Redfield, we may begin. I appreciate you fetching him, Mr. Burton."

"'Course," Barry muttered with a nod before joining the group standing in front of Wesker.

Chris sighed and stepped forward beside Jill who growled under her breath and took a step closer to Joseph. Chris accepted the action and looked towards Wesker who noticed her movement but chose to ignore it.

"I called this demonstration due to Mr. Vickers' latest injury during our last mission-"

"Sorry, again, Captain," Brad muttered, interrupting the blond.

"Don't interrupt me, Vickers."

"Right, sorry."

"I would like to introduce the concept of concealed weapons."

"Concept? As if we didn't know people conceal weapons?" Jill asked, crossing her arms.

"I would apologize, however you certainly don't take the needed precautions you were trained to do when entering an insecure area so yes, I'm assuming the Alpha team cannot possibly comprehend the idea of concealed weapons. I don't believe I owe an apology. Redfield, step onto the mat, if you will," it wasn't a question, Chris knew that, so he did as he was asked concealing the glare he shot to the blond.

Chris stepped onto the padded material and immediately could recall this moment. This was the moment he ended up on his back with Wesker straddling him, a knife to his throat and both of his hands secured by the wrists with Wesker's right hand. Chris began to summon the experience he gained the past ten years of being in combat because he was going to prove Wesker wrong. This was the start of his plan, it had to be.

"I have a concealed weapon," Wesker stated simply.

Chris remembered- his shoe; Wesker's left shoe to be specific.

"Mr. Redfield doesn't know where the weapon is being held nor does he know what weapon it is."

Then it struck Chris- maybe the blond had another concealed weapon.

_This better be impressive _Chris thought to himself as Wesker turned on his heel and stepped onto the mat as well.

"I expect you are prepared?"

Chris gave a firm nod. Wesker was going to lunge as if the knife is in his sleeve but at the last second, he'll crouch and trip Chris in one swift movement.

Chris will have to avoid being tripped. He could do that- right?

Wesker smirked and began at him, his left hand dipping into his right sleeve just as Chris remembered it. His eyes, however, stayed on Wesker's left hand. That would be the hand to pull the knife out of his boot where it sat in wait.

Chris waited until the opportune moment and just when Wesker ducked down, Chris pounced over the blond completely and rolled on the safety of the mat. Wesker, by this point, had straightened, knife in hand, before turning on his heel. Chris, however, was already on the attack with his leg in the air ready to kick the knife from Wesker's grip. Wesker saw this, ducked, and attempted to repeat the attack by tripping Chris.

Chris tripped but rolled out of reach and quickly stood with a huff.

"Unexpected," Wesker muttered with raised eyebrows. His grey eyes sparkled in lights hanging above and he glanced to the group.

Chris ignored the blond and attacked, again aiming for the knife. Wesker, not expecting the attack, moved to switch the knife to his right hand but, instead, Chris knocked it out of the air and to the ground. It hit with a clatter just off the mat and slid several inches before stopping.

Chris straightened and sighed, catching his breath quickly. Wesker smirked and raised his hand to reveal the magnum in his left hand.

"Too late, Redfield, you're dead."

Chris sighed and stared at the blond for a moment. Chris saw that coming and he managed to fuck it up _again_.

"It was impressive nonetheless," Wesker stated.

It was a taunt, Chris could feel the smugness through the meaningless words.

"Yeah 'course it was," Chris muttered.

Chris returned to the group and avoided the harsh gaze by Jill. Barry pat him roughly on the back but, truly, it only stung more due to just how realistic everything was. His teammate's lives hung in the balance and if he was able to change things, he could save them all. He could even save Piers some time down the line because he had an advantage that nobody else had- not even the great Albert Wesker and that thought along put a smirk on his face.

* * *

Returning home that night was difficult for Chris. The brunet barely remembered where he lived let alone what was going to happen the following day and, to say the least, he felt panicked sitting in the passenger seat beside Wesker. He didn't speak- he didn't feel the need to speak. Chris had his mind on issues that were truly beyond him and questions swirled over and over in his mind. Everything from _how did I even get here _to _am I really expected to relive the next sixteen years of my life to fix everything that's ever fucked up_ and he was slowly falling deeper and deeper into the hole he had somehow managed to avoid the majority of the day yet the moment he is sitting beside his enemy his mind suddenly wants to throw him into pits of self pity.

"You're quiet," Wesker stated simply eyes on the dark road in front of them.

Chris had to, unfortunately, rely on Wesker for a ride to retrieve his car to avoid any other awkward car rides with him and it was painful. Hell, even looking at the blond was painful because despite knowing exactly what was going on behind those beady grey eyes, Chris saw his old captain. The captain he put his life on the line for time and time again. The captain that did the same for him. The captain that Chris trusted more than anyone he had ever trusted before.

"Yeah, just thinking."

Chris couldn't respond more than that. He felt sick being so close to the man who fucked him over so harshly.

"Have you spoken to your sister recently?"

Chris' stomach twisted and he was sure this conversation never happened but he couldn't be sure at this point. But if he was truthful, he wasn't very _sure_ about anything. He remembered things vaguely if at all and he just happened to recall them as they happened which sent him into a bad spiral of déjà vu that in turn made his head to spin. Maybe this was the reason why he was feeling sick, he mused as he fought an oncoming headache.

"No, I haven't, why?" Chris asked carefully hoping his sharp tone wasn't as apparent as he thought it was.

"I apologize, I know she is a rather sore subject-" Wesker trailed off and the silence returned.

Chris groaned internally letting out a sigh before turning his head towards the window to gaze at the night walkers of Raccoon City and the bright lights of the restaurants and stores that lines the streets. He enjoyed this town and felt a rush of guilt as he realized just how much he missed it. The people were caring, the town was compact, the businesses were homely and family run, and the most that ever really happened were pathetic drug busts on the edge of town in the abandoned warehouses or somewhere deep within the woods where most would never venture. There was rarely a murder or any real crime and when there were untrustworthy brutes making their way into town the police usually knew about it ahead of time and could take care of it themselves. STARS was quiet more often than not but they were also the ones called at four in the morning for a drug raid so it was a bit of a tradeoff, Chris assumed.

"She isn't a sore subject," Chris said. "I'm just tired."

"Right, the terror from last night."

"Yeah, it kept me awake most of the night. That's why I was running late this morning and why I'm snappy now. I just want to get my car, go home, and go to bed."

"Well, we are nearing the repair shop," Wesker assured him.

Chris didn't feel assured. He felt overwhelmed, lonely, desperate- nothing anywhere near assured.

"Yeah, thanks," Chris muttered dully.

* * *

Walking into his apartment was bittersweet. He half expected Jill to be waiting for him with a beer, a movie, and a story about some guy she was dating. Instead, he was doomed to step inside his dark living room alone possibly for a long, long time. This alone made him want to call his sister but it's not as if simply talking to her will do much besides bother her so he decided against it rather quickly.

Instead, he closed the door and sulked deeper into his living room. He sat on the sofa and glanced around in a melancholy sadness of sorts.

The room smelled the same. It smelled like his old apartment. It smelled like hope, passion, and good memories and despite the good feeling the smell was attempting to summon within him he just felt sick. It all felt wrong. Not because he had lived it before but because it didn't feel as it should possibly because he had no idea what reliving your glory years before things went to shit really was supposed to feel like. Was he supposed to be happy he got a second chance after he had already accepted everyone's deaths? Was he supposed to strive to save the world again and fall into the pit that was his mind when he failed?

That was rather unfair, he mused. How did he exactly know he was going to fail?

He dismissed the thought and sat back against the cool material of the couch allowing it to sink into his STARS uniform and cool his warm skin beneath the clothing. His head lulled back and he stared at the white blotched ceiling he remembered far too well.

Everything that had happened in his life had a reason behind it. Zombies took over Raccoon City because of a biological effect created by Umbrella- Giant mutated monsters were created out of it and from that came organizations fighting them. So what could possibly explain his getting sent back in time?

No biological virus to date had effect that made you hallucinate or anything really explainable, Chris was sure- Chris was painfully sure. His mind leaned back and forth at the thought of his entire life being a lie and instead simply being a drunken dream brought on by his guilt of skipping out on Jill and his 'déjà vu' was really just him convincing himself his life wasn't a lie. Then a rational part of him would chime in, of course, and say he remembered hurting, bleeding, being near death on more than one occasion and he remembered every moment of it. His life wasn't a broken messy dream- it was _real_. But _this_ was also real.

For now, unfortunately, Chris would just have to live the life he already lived because without really knowing exactly what was happening, he couldn't exactly act accordingly and with no way of getting back- well, he was stuck.

Even with that thought, he couldn't help feeling guilty. All he wanted was out but, really, if what was happening was as real as it felt, he could save countless lives from Umbrella's mistake. Hell, at this point, he was the _only_ one who could.

Despite having been the captain to the BSAA for several years, this was, to date, on the most stressful tasks he had ever had thrown at him and possibly would ever have thrown at him. This was assuming he made it out of _whatever this was _alive.

* * *

Chris awoke stiff and hungry curled on the couch the following morning. He seemed to have forgotten about food all day and hadn't even bothered taking off his uniform which was now twisted and choking him in his awkward sleeping position. Light was shining through the windows behind the couch and bouncing off of the television across from him. Above the television, the clock read sometime after six thankfully giving him some time to clean himself up and eat whatever he could find, really.

He pushed himself up with weak arms and yawned involuntarily as he inched off of the couch and into a standing position. His mouth was dry and sticky and his scalp itched for a shower. He made the decision mentally to take care of both issues after shutting off the light he had left on the night before. He yawned again and made his way to the bathroom to shed his clothes and step into the shower- after he figured out how to work it, of course.

The shower was refreshing and, much like everything around him, bittersweet. It awoke him to his reality of still being stuck in his STARS days when, even for five minutes, his sleep haze had blocked the thought from his mind and he was at peace. For a long moment, he just wished to have those five minutes back. To lay on the couch newly awake and unknowing of the horrors the days eventually to come would bring.

Chris dressed in his uniform, changing his white and green undershirt to one fresher and not recently slept in. He tossed his uniform jacket over his shoulder and moved his socked feet towards the kitchen. He made his way onto the linoleum floor but before he could step towards the fridge, the phone beside the couch rang.

Chris frowned and walked swiftly to pick it up, raising the receiver to his ear before speaking.

"Hello?"

"Chris! I'm glad I caught you before work!"

Chris' heart sank and he smiled to himself.

"Hey, Claire. It's been a while."

The words came out before he could really stop them. In his reality, he hadn't spoken to Claire in over a year. When he lost his memory, Claire went with it and he was missing for quite some time without her even knowing it. Then he was being thrown into another mission with Piers and when Piers died he lost all motivation to speak to anyone. Even Jill annoyed him at times but now he'd give anything for the brunet to talk to him again.

"It's only been a week," she laughed.

A week. Only a week. Chris suddenly wanted to return to his own reality if only to call his sister.

"W-Well, I worry about you," Chris gave a fake laugh to play off his own guilt.

"Spring break is coming up-"

"I was going to call you about that," Chris said, taking a seat on the couch.

"Did you not want me to come?"

"No, I wanted to invite you here. I thought maybe you would like to spend some time here?"

"Oh," Claire commented quietly.

Chris' spirits immediately fell at the disappointment in her voice. It was subtle but Chris knew his sister better than anyone. He wanted more than anything to spend time with the one person in this reality that could give him some sort of consolation but not at the expense of her happiness.

"But, you know, my place is small and you probably want to spend it with your friends," Chris said slowly. "I'm sure you wanted to spend it with one of your friends, anyway."

"Boyfriend, actually," Claire muttered.

Chris sighed heavily. He was never aware Claire had a boyfriend at this time. In fact, he specifically remembered Claire spending Thanksgiving with him and not saying a thing about it.

"Well, have fun then," Chris said his voice teeming with sarcasm and a bit of anger but none necessarily directed at Claire. He rubbed his eyes aggressively with his free hand and stood back up.

"Chris, I'm so-"

"No it's fine. I have work. I'll call you later," Chris muttered. "Love you." He didn't wait for a response before setting the phone back in it's place rather forcefully.

Chris wasn't as alone as he thought, he was aware. Even as he made his way back to the kitchen and began venturing through the fridge, his mind wandered to Barry. There was nobody he could exactly speak to about his issue but he could sure as hell treat Barry like the friend he was.

After several minutes of searching through cupboard, Chris gave up and simply pulled on his jacket, grabbed his keys, and went out the front door.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: I do NOT have chapter 4 finished oh dear. Also, I apologize for this being a few hours late. I fell asleep early last night and I went out tonight and between then and now, I just did not remember! Thank you person on AO3 for reminding me! Wish me luck on the next chapter! There will be a short two-three week hiatus at chapter 5, I believe. No promises. That's the plan at this point.**

* * *

**Chapter 3:**

**The Only Way to Have a Friend is to Be One**

_-Ralph Waldo Emerson_

Chris walked into the STARS office that morning and bypassed the empty desks of Jill and Joseph who had yet to arrive. Brad was sitting in his chair, typing away at a large computer and smiling stupidly at Chris who nodded back. Chris arrived at his own desk and tossed his keys into the top drawer, a morning ritual he had yet to forget. Barry rose from his desk and greeted Chris by taking the brunette's desk chair and sitting in it himself.

"Did Claire call?" Barry asked with a grin that Chris returned despite his current feeling.

"Yeah, she's spending Spring Break with her boyfriend," Chris paused and narrowed his eyes at the older man. "_Why_?"

"I called her last night to see how she was and you may or may not have come up," Barry admitted bashfully. He shrugged and Chris rolled his eyes.

"What did she say?"

"She misses you."

Chris scoffed and shook his in disbelief, his smile fading almost immediately. It was his job to be there for his sister which meant to make her happy but he _needed_ her right now. If he did choose to tell anyone about his current position, she would have been it. Unfortunately for Chris, she was no longer an option which left him with no options left if he had any to begin with.

"She's spending her holiday off with her boyfriend," Chris repeated and leaned back against his desk.

"What about Summer?" Barry asked with interest.

Chris shrugged, "I hung up before I got to ask. Wasn't the best thing to do, I'm sure."

"You okay?"

"Aren't I always?" Chris asked with an ambiguous shrug. "I just thought maybe she would want to spend some time with me as much as I wanted to spend some with her."

"I'm sure she does. She really does miss you," Barry said with a sad smile. "You know, when Kathy and I began dating seriously, we struggled during the holidays and when we had time off, we would avoid spending time with our family just because we were afraid. Neither of us wanted the other to meet their family just yet and we had to make our choices. I know how you are, Chris, and if she brought this guy around, you would put him through stress that may or may not kill him. You _do _work for Raccoon City's elite STARS team, after all." Barry grinned and Chris chuckled though there was a bitter undertone that he was sure Barry missed. "She's playing it safe until she's sure he won't leave her if you try to kill him or worse. Kathy did the same with her father."

"Yeah, I know," Chris sighed. "But there's nobody else around to be protective over her. It's just me. It's a stressful job."

Barry laughed and nodded with a smile. "You're doing a good job, your parents would be proud."

Chris shrugged, "I guess."

This was one of the main reasons why Barry was rarely seen around with Chris during their STARS days but Chris would never outwardly admit it. The man had an incessant need to bring up Chris' parents and Chris just wasn't one more reminiscing about them. They were, to say the least, an indefinite sore subject and Chris refused to speak about them to anyone besides Claire.

But Chris just couldn't deny Claire knowing her parents. She was a child when they died and though Chris' memory was limited, he filled in what he needed to when it was needed. Every once and a while, he would receive a call from a sad Claire requesting to hear about their parents and Chris would oblige as much as he could.

"How about we go for a drink after work? Kathy might not be happy watching the kids after she gets off but-"

"No, it's fine," Chris said with a quick smile. "I wouldn't want your wife getting angry at you."

"She wouldn't be _angry_-"

"Oh yes she would," Wesker's voice chimed.

Barry swiveled in Chris' chair and grinned at Wesker's comment. Chris looked at the blond but his neutral face stayed and he watched the man closely. Chris despised knowing what Wesker was going to do and the pain and misery Barry would surely be put through as he worked to protect his family even though it meant betraying his entire team.

"I apologize for eavesdropping but Mrs. Burton is-" Wesker smirked and raised a hand to motion he was thinking, "I believe the correct term would be… feisty."

Barry laughed heartily and Chris grimaced. Barry seemed so visibly happy. So unknowing of the horrors he would have to face when the time came. He, like everyone else, trusted Wesker and Chris couldn't decide whether he pitied them or envied them. Was it possible for both?

"That she is, sir. Hey, what are you doing next Friday night?"

Jill arrived somewhere behind Chris and he twisted around to glance at the brunet as Wesker answered. She either didn't see the look or ignored it as she hung her coat over the back of her chair and sat down at her computer.

"I believe I'll be spending it alone," the blond admitted with a sad smile.

"You know what?" Barry asked, glancing from Chris to Wesker. "I have a great idea."

"Great idea? Like the time you decided to throw a grenade into a stack of pillows?" Chris asked with a playful smirk.

It felt odd not having the head spinning déjà vu feeling after every minor event that happened around him but he was thankful nonetheless. It worried him that small events like _talking_ to someone could change the entire outcome of his life, essentially, but it's a thought he didn't enjoy dwelling on. The whole time travel thing always confused him to no end and as long as he changed certain things _purposely_ he hoped nothing major would change for the worse.

"I was young," Barry defended with a laugh.

Chris smiled at Jill's quiet laughter from behind him and he sighed as he longed to talk to her as a friend and not as a date gone wrong.

"You guys should come to my place for dinner. Everyone seems so down and Kathy would love to have company."

Wesker was first to open his mouth, "It sounds nice but I'm sure I'll be busy-"

"C'mon, Captain! Take a break for once and spend some time with your STARS family," Jill said with a laugh.

"You're invited, of course," Barry shot at her and she smiled.

"I'd love to, Barry, but I'm visiting my dad. I'm sure it won't take long so maybe I'll stop by?"

"Great," Barry said with a smile before turning to look back at Wesker who sighed.

"Christopher, will you also be accepting Mr. Burton's offer?"

Wesker only ever considered calling _Chris_ by his first name. Chris never heard the blond refer to anyone else on the team by anything but their surname. Previously, it made him feel _special_. Now? It made him sick.

Chris sighed and looked at Barry who smiled his bearded smile with no care in the world.

"Yeah, might as well," Chris muttered, returning the smile.

"Then I, too, will accept," Wesker agreed with a nod.

"What about you, Brad?" Barry called, swiveling smoothly in Chris' chair until he caught Brad's eye.

"I'm spending next weekend with my parents. Thanks, though," Brad answered.

"Anyone know what Joseph's doing?"

"Spending it with his girlfriend, probably," Jill responded to Barry and Barry nodded.

"Alright then. Kathy will be excited."

Barry stood and offered Chris' chair back to Chris before returning to his desk. Chris took his seat and sat back. Kathy being anywhere near Wesker put him on edge. Wesker had this aura about him that made him seem like the loyal and trustworthy man the prick pretended to be. Unfortunately, this could mean he could threaten Barry's family at any time and get Barry working with him.

Though after a moment of considering this, Chris doubted Wesker would confront Barry unless absolutely needed. Wesker didn't need help now- he was busy with his cover and that was his job. Birkin took care of the rest, that much Chris was aware of. Wesker stopped in frequently but his place was in STARS which meant Barry would be useless to him at the moment.

Kathy was safe for now, hopefully.

Chris felt eyes on him as he suddenly became aware of his surroundings and he turned in his chair to find Wesker had yet to move from outside of his office. The blonde's eyes wandered around the room in boring interest before coming back and settling on Chris. Wesker smiled, his grey eyes sparkling with fake care that caused Chris' stomach to twist into painful knots. This, unlike the entire conversation that happened beforehand, happened and Chris was sure that when he and Wesker did this dance before, it was different. He couldn't quite remember how but it just _was_.

Chris gave a quick smile before twisting back around to drop it almost immediately.

He felt as if he was missing something- something his mind knew but refused to make known to him. This worried him but only vaguely. The post traumatic stress made him forget many, _many_ things and this could easily be one of them.

* * *

It was difficult for Jill, Chris assumed, to have to work as cover for the man who stood her up on a date yet she remained professional as they made their way through the boarded up abandoned house. A concerned neighbor called the police when they saw men visiting the house but when they heard gun shots and screams, STARS was called.

It was later the same day and the entirety of Alpha was present now. Bravo was unneeded due to the size of the house but this didn't worry Chris any less as he tried desperately hard to remember anything about this mission.

Wesker was securing the back and Chris was sent in as point-man through the front. Jill was instructed to cover him until Wesker met back up with them inside the house. Joseph followed after Wesker and Brad stayed outside to secure the outside area. Brad was more of the tech guy and he was left out of most of the physical stuff. This, luckily, worked rather well for him as he much preferred to stand outside a house with a gun in his hand than walk through a dark, dank house unsure of what was around every corner.

Chris snuck his way through the house, flashlight aimed in his left hand under the gun held by his right. Jill held a similar stance and remained close behind the male, eyes scanning the dark area frequently looking for both enemies and Wesker- though in Chris' mind, they were the one in the same.

Chris could see light shining through the cracks between the boards over the windows in the living room. Streams of light shot across the floor and molded over the dusty covered furniture causing flecks of dust to be seen floating aimlessly in the air. The carpet was dirty, walked on, and old.

The sound of a loud thud as Chris and Jill rounding the corner into the hallway that led to the kitchen, and assumedly the back door, caused the two to stop and listen. It was silent- the type of silent that made your ears rings and your heart race.

"Wait I see something," Chris heard and from the sound of Jill's shuffling, she heard it too.

"It's us," Chris answered as he recognized the voice as Joseph's.

Wesker rounded the corner first, flashlight aimed and passing over the two crouched figures before being directed to the ground.

"We took care of the security," Joseph stated quietly.

"Not much security by the sound of it," Chris muttered in response.

"Miss Valentine, you and Mr. Frost are to remain lookouts in the kitchen as Chris and I descend into the basement."

"Copy that," Jill responded with a nod.

"Chris, you're to remain as point-man and I will provide cover. It's the mid-day so I predict the bandits will be out, however, I would advise caution-"

"Okay," Chris stated quickly, cutting the blond off before turning on his heel and beginning towards the basement.

Chris didn't see Jill exchanged worried looks with Joseph or the way Wesker cocked his head in Chris' direction before following him but Chris could care less. Chris had been Captain himself, he didn't need to be told what to do. He knew the plan, he knew how to execute it; he wasn't a child.

And so, Chris did just that. He stepped up in the same way he always had working for the B.S.A.A and that was something that wouldn't leave him even if he was suddenly physically younger. He, emotionally, had already grown too much to simply retreat to following directions given by the man he technically killed four years before.

* * *

Chris glanced at the calendar in the bottom right corner of his screen.

_Thursday, March 5_.

This meant eight days until the dinner, a type of get together he had never really favored and he was now particularly dreading. Maybe he could back out and simply sit at home contemplating how he was going to kill Wesker.

_A great friend I am_, Chris thought bitterly as he began organizing his files in preparation for his leaving. His plan was to clean up and drive to his old favorite bar where he could talk to the pretty waitress he used to eye during his STARS days and maybe act like he didn't know about their death in two years.

"See you tomorrow, Chris," Barry said with a wave as he passed Chris' desk.

"Bye, Barry. Tell Kathy I said hello," Chris said with a sad smile.

"Will do!" Barry left the office leaving Chris alone.

Chris sighed and dropped the files he was holding. Wesker had his own office connected to the group's office and the door was currently closed. Through the window, Chris could see Wesker on the phone though he didn't look particularly angry or bothered. It was just business but to Wesker that could mean he was ordering for Umbrella to set an orphanage on fire for _scientific purposes_.

That was, assuming, Wesker could make orders like that. Chris never really knew what Wesker did in Umbrella despite knowing the majority of his background with the company. Chris had read over the Project W files countless times and could practically recite them word for word if his life depended on it. For a while, it made him pity the blond- this was, of course, before he kidnapped Jill.

Chris lost all pity in that moment.

"Are you alright?"

Chris jumped slightly and sighed when Wesker chuckled.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"What will your night consist of?" Wesker asked with mild interest as he stepped out of the doorway of his office to lean against the wall that lined the outside of his office.

"Heavy drinking of alcohol, not sure what yet, and mass amounts of hoping that I actually make it to my bed instead of falling asleep on the couch again," Chris' response was snide but it was truthful. He hadn't taken his lunch break due to the work load he was given and he was beginning to lose his respectful attitude as the hunger caught up with him. "You?"

"I was considering returning home and simply continuing my work there. However, would you mind some company?"

_Yes_.

"No, of course not. Do you just want to meet there or-?"

"I'm finished here and I wouldn't mind driving," Wesker shrugged and Chris nodded.

Chris stood and he caught himself on the desk in front of him. It took a moment for the room to stop spinning and by the time his mind was able to concentrate on what was happening, he found Wesker far too close to him. Wesker's hand was pushed against the side of Chris' neck, a far too sensitive part of his body. Chris shook his head once and brushed Wesker's hand away before physically pulling from the touch when Wesker's hand wasn't moved.

"When was the last time you ate?" Wesker asked after finally pulling away his hand only to grasp at Chris' chin and physically turn his face towards the blond.

"I don't remember," Chris responded gruffly, attempting to also pull out of that grip.

"Stop your struggling, Christopher."

"I'm fine!" Chris growled and yanked his face from the grip.

Wesker stared at him for a moment, his face unreadable in ways that bothered Chris beyond comprehension. Chris was holding his chin, his thumb caressing the right side of his jaw line as he glanced at Wesker and dropped his eyes. Wesker stood there a moment, his grey eyes assessing Chris before smirking coldly.

"Very well," he muttered and turned on his heel.

Chris watched Wesker gather his coat from within his office, calmly turn out the light, and begin to the exit. Something in Chris wanted to call out, wanted to make everything okay, but Chris didn't allow it to venture past a simple thought. Chris was Chris and Wesker was Wesker. They were doomed to play these roles as enemies and this was something that was set into motion long before the Mansion Incident. Befriending Wesker would not suddenly change his mind about betraying the group, it didn't before and wouldn't this time.

However, Chris _did_ need to keep his job and snapping at his boss left and right probably wasn't going to end well for him or his team.

This was the only reason he actually sighed and walked quickly after the blond.

"Wes-"

Right, respect should probably be in the apology no matter how fake it was.

"Captain, wait!" Chris sighed and quickly followed the blond.

Wesker didn't stop when the sound of Chris' footsteps began to echo through the quiet hallway. Wesker, if anything, strode faster and Chris had to pick up his speed to a jog to grab the blond by his arm. This was, apparently, the incorrect thing to do as Wesker turned on his heel to quickly come face to face with Chris.

Chris didn't back down or flinch. If anything his eyes hardened as did his grip as he stared into the grey eyes of his enemy.

"What?" he hissed through a clenched jaw.

"I-I wanted to apologize," Chris stated slowly though in the same commanding voice Wesker used whenever he attempted to emphasize anything. "You were… attempting to help and I pushed you away," Chris' voice grew softer but the commanding voice was still there, he was sure. "I'm sorry."

Chris half expected a snide response but Wesker's jaw unclenched and he sighed, breaking their eye contact.

It was in this moment that Chris realized something. Chris stared into those soft, apologetic grey eyes and saw the human part of Wesker that Chris didn't even realize existed until this moment. He always assumed Wesker was this horrible _thing_ that was raised as just another one of Umbrella's monsters. But Wesker wasn't that in this moment. Wesker looked- seemed- human.

And yet it was a lie.

It was the same lie he told every day for two years and it would forever remain that lie.

And that's why Chris released Wesker's arm and stepped back.

"But like I said, I'm fine. Just… sorry for snapping. Have a good night."

Chris quickly stepped away, retreating back into the STARS office to retrieve his belongings and get home as soon as possible because he had things to do that didn't involve sitting around to pity the man who ruined his life.

He quickly made his way through the door of the office, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair and tossing it over his arm before grabbing his wallet from the desk top. He turned on his heel and was surprised to see Wesker standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

"Sir?" Chris asked carefully.

"When was the last time you ate, Christopher?"

Chris frowned. He really didn't need this. He had things that need to be done, things that involved killing the man across from him.

"I don't know?" Chris said with a head shake. "I'm fine, really Captain. I'm just busy-"

"Let me buy you dinner, Redfield."

Chris was in the process of sticking his wallet into his back pocket when the man offered. The brunet looked up and saw the blond smirking that damn smirk. The same damn smirk that haunted him all through Rockfort Island and Kijuju until he forced himself to forget. This was the man that gave him the disorder that had him lost for so long.

And yet he still managed a small smile.

"Thanks, Captain, but it's been a long day."

"You were willing just a few minutes ago," Wesker countered carefully.

"I have a bit to think about," Chris muttered truthfully exchanging a glance with the captain.

"Very well, if you insist. You must eat something, Christopher. You need the energy and I cannot have you falling ill at such an important time."

"Important time?" Chris asked carefully, eyeing the man suspiciously.

Wesker chuckled dryly and Chris internally tensed. His gun wasn't nearby, after all, and he just didn't feel safe being near the blond without a very nice weapon or at least several other people around. Yet here he stood feet away from the blond.

"Dinner parties and-" Wesker stopped and sighed. "I'd rather not see you in the hospital, that is all."

"You won't, I'll be fine. See you tomorrow, Sir."

Chris began towards the doorway but before he reached it, Wesker spoke again.

"Are you ever going to get over your fear of me, Redfield?"

Chris stopped now much closer to the blond than he would have ever liked. Perhaps Wesker had a point, Chris was afraid of him but not in the same way he thought. Chris feared what was to come and what Wesker was going to end up doing and how it was going to effect everyone that he knew and loved. Wesker, as a person, did not scare Chris in the slightest.

"I'm not afraid of you, Captain," Chris said, his voice coming out a little too dark for his liking.

"If you insist."

Chris simply gave a nod and continued walking. He passed by Wesker, brushing his arm slightly, and turned down the hall. He walked as quickly as his legs allowed and the sound of his echoing footsteps filled the hallway but he continued. He kept going and going but when he found himself back in front of the STARS office, he sighed. Wesker was standing inside, jacket hung over one of the empty desk chairs and the phone receiver of said desk pressed to his ear. Chris couldn't hear what Wesker said through the closed door but he seemed upset and shouting. Chris watched him laugh harshly, a sound he _could_ hear through the door, before Wesker's eyes landed on Chris through the window of the door. A smirk crossed his lips and his mouth moved in a way Chris couldn't read.

Another few minutes of Chris watching and Wesker hung up, motioning with a single hand for Chris to enter. Chris obeyed and stepped inside, arms crossing as eyes raked the empty room.

"I see you have returned."

"Yeah, I want to take you up on the offer."

"Why is that?" Wesker asked, eyebrows raised and smirk fading.

"I guess I could tell you over dinner," Chris offered with a shrug.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: I'm not late this time! Woo! Also please inform me of any errors you happen to see within the chapter. I apologize for the lack of Valentine's Day oneshot of some kind but I've been insane busy. I haven't given up on Diamonds For Tears or Fall of Umbrella, guys! I promise. They're just slowly getting finished while I also fight to finish this bad boy. **

**For personal updates, follow my tumblr WhiskerFanfiction.**

**I am also taking prompts and commissions though if I take any more, they will come after one chapter of either Diamonds for Tears or Fall of Umbrella. **

**Lastly, this chapter was a bitch and I truly hope you guys enjoy it. (I also hope the flamers and trolls will stop attacking this story but you can only hope, right?)**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

**Food For The Body Is Not Enough, There Must Be Food For The Soul**

_-Dorothy Day_

The two drove separately but met at an Italian restaurant. It was small, family owned, and hopefully not Umbrella run though Chris couldn't be sure anymore. Umbrella seemed to have a hand in every business in town and Chris couldn't comprehend how blind the citizens of Raccoon City were. Nonetheless, Chris arrived and stood in the dark, staring at the restaurant. He could see Wesker inside through a window and Chris wondered what he was doing here.

Before he could really answer himself, Wesker looked up and gave one of his fake smiles to Chris before removing his glasses. Chris sighed and entered, avoiding the hostess and heading straight to the table Wesker sat at. Wesker's legs were crossed under the table and two menus lay on the table, one of which Wesker's hand sat atop. Chris quietly wondered how long Wesker waited while he sat. His eyes wandered as Wesker spoke and he found that all light came from red sconces on the wall and hanging lamps above each table. He realized the overall lighting and classic Italian atmosphere set a very romantic mood.

Chris was in no way interested in setting any mood with Wesker, especially a _romantic_ one.

"I assume you found the restaurant with ease?"

"Yeah, wasn't too difficult."

Chris picked up the menu and his eyes began glancing over the two page book. He sat just across from Wesker in the wooden chair provided.

"Good," the blond responded. Chris glanced up to see Wesker flashing another smile, similar to the one given when they met eyes through the window. Chris knew this all too well as Wesker's "show" smile, put on during business functions and when he was playing his role as Captain Albert Wesker.

It sickened Chris moreso than any of Wesker's actions.

"You don't have to do that," Chris stated, eyes returning to the drink category of the menu.

"What, may I ask, am I doing that I don't have to?" Wesker asked, mild interest under his pretentious tone.

Chris gave a dry laugh and arched an eyebrow—something the old Chris would never do in the presence of the great Captain Albert Wesker, "I know the difference between your sincere smile, your fake smile, and your smirk. Don't smile if you don't mean it"

Chris was beginning to realize the façade he'd had for the past two days was wearing thin as his true self was beginning to show. His assertion with Claire was another one of these moments. He was a strong, persistent leader and it was coming out, slowly seeping into his actions without Chris realizing it as he was far more concerned with the fact that he had suddenly awoken in a different time period.

"I see. I apologize if I insulted you," the blond stated.

Chris exhaled heavily, "you didn't insult me."

They sat in silence. Chris read the menu while Wesker did whatever Wesker was doing. Chris eventually looked up after reading the same line over and over again and found Wesker with his chin resting on his fist and his blue-grey eyes on a man sitting across the restaurant. Chris twisted his neck to glance at him—young, probably late twenties, black hair, a suit.

"Do you know him?" Chris asked.

"No. He simply reminds me of someone, I suppose."

"Who?"

Chris wracked his tired brain and didn't find anyone he could remember that would possibly relate to the young man. Just as he began to run the various possibilities in his head, Wesker responded.

"Nobody of importance."

Chris considered pushing the subject but the arrival of the waiter slightly startled him. He ordered a drink and Wesker ordered coffee and some sort of pasta.

"And for you?" the tall male turned to Chris.

"Just the soda," Chris stated, closing the menu.

"Christopher, we are here for dinner."

"I'm not hungry," Chris shot back.

"I don't believe that."

"Just the soda," Chris repeated to the waiter, ignoring Wesker.

They handed the waiter the menus and waited until he left before returning to the conversation—though Wesker opened his mouth before Chris.

"I must ask," the blond began, "what has been on your mind as of late? You seem distant and restless and it worries."

"It worries who exactly?" Chris asked. His tone was thick with accusation but Wesker ignored it.

"Myself. I worry for you, Christopher." Chris scoffed and turned his head toward the window. It was dark and all he could really see was his own reflection of which he stared at while Wesker continued. "You don't believe me?" Wesker paused at Chris' shaking head.

It took everything Chris had for him to not _explode_ on Wesker. Chris wanted to stand up and scream at Wesker. He wanted to punch him and tell him about how his plans will fail. Chris had to practically stop himself from snapping at him about how his own life work would kill his best friend and how he was nothing but an experiment gone slightly right. Instead, Chris exhaled through his nose and glanced back at Wesker.

"Whether you believe me or not isn't my concern. My concern lies with what has been bothering you both as your captain and friend."

"Friend?" Chris asked with a dry laugh. "That's a stretch, don't you think?"

Chris realized being in an environment where Wesker wasn't his captain was causing his attitude, his _real_ attitude, to surface and he found himself challenging Wesker. Unfortunately, in his current situation, he couldn't challenge the blond as he was rather confined by the role Wesker was playing as Captain. Chris would have to find another way around it that wasn't doing this though he wasn't quite sure if he could keep himself from being too disrespectful.

"Possibly. However, friend or not, I continue to worry. Do you not see that you are not alone as you seem to act? You have people—friends, colleagues, myself—all who are here to help if you simply speak to us," Wesker's 'Captain' voice was back.

"My issues are my business, Captain," Chris answered. His tone was softer than his previous words but he was still serious and Chris was sure Wesker knew it.

"You are part of a team, Redfield. You cannot be selfish and expect only you to suffer in the end," Wesker's words had Chris' attitude back as quickly as it had left. "You also cannot expect those who care for you to sit idle while you—"

"_Those who care for me_?" Chris snapped. "Say what you really mean, _Captain_," Chris narrowed his eyes and his cold words hung in the air for a moment before he continued, "You really mean those who depend on me. I get it, alright?"

Chris couldn't imagine how the two looked to anyone who knew a thing about body language. Chris was stiff but sitting tall as if to pull the dominance with his posture. Wesker looked calm but the way his eyebrow twitched at certain sentences and the way his fingers seemed to be searching for anything to do besides sit in his lap was a thinking technique Chris had learned Wesker to have.

The return of the waiter with drinks caused Wesker to stop his response. The two thanked the waiter and, again, waited for him to leave.

"You don't seem to understand my words as you claim. I remind you of those who care for you and you disregard my words. Then, I attempt to remind you of who rely on your skills to stay alive and you not only disregard my words but you also twist them to make it seem as if it's bad to have people relying on you."

"I'm dealing with some stuff, alright? I don't need to be reminded of a bunch of people who don't care about me. If this was the real reason you wanted to have dinner, you should have told me. We could have done this in the office," Chris snapped. His gaze returned to his reflection and the sight that looked back at him was Piers.

Chris jumped and with a blink, the image was gone. He sat straight up again in shock, eyes wide with fear and mind turning over and over at the image. This was what led him to his drinking and the depression _before_ he awoke here, seeing Piers' haunting face everywhere. His guilt wouldn't leave and even now he was dealing with it.

"You certainly aren't alright."

Chris' neck snapped to look at Wesker who was staring at him. The blond looked slightly worried though the majority of the emotion in his eyes was amusement—Chris knew all too well how to read those cold eyes.

"I'm fine," Chris said with less force than intended.

"Very well." Wesker paused and took a drink from the cup he had ignored up until now, "As long as I continue to receive respect and your little… tantrums don't interfere with your job, continue with your self harming behavior."

"First of all," Chris began, fingers drumming on the table, "I haven't lost respect for you. Nothing has changed. I'm the same person I was a few days ago and I don't know what you're thinking especially since I haven't even questioned your ability to lead as a captain. Second, I'm not doing anything that is harming myself."

"I haven't seen you eat in two days, Christopher."

Chris' eyes lingered on Wesker's. The two just sat for a long moment, exchanging glances before Chris sat back, dominance fight fading. Chris hadn't eaten since he woke up where he was. It was a dream—that was what Chris was attempting to tell himself. It wasn't real, he didn't need to eat. But he couldn't deny the hunger that was grumbling within him.

"I haven't had time."

"Make time. Be late to work. I don't mind waiting an additional ten minutes while you toast bread. I also suggest not lying to me."

"Lying?"

"Yes. We have time right now. You could have ordered _something_ considering we are here for _dinner_."

"I don't want to spend money on food."

Chris knew it was a bad lie—oh how he knew. But that didn't stop the statement from slipping from his lips with far too much ease or the rather amused look on Wesker's face to sit and taunt him for a moment. Chris' eyes refocused on the napkin dispenser that also held various packets of sugar supplements.

"I could have easily paid for your meal. In fact, I am making that offer. I will gladly pay for—"

"No, you aren't going to pay for me. I'll eat when I get home, it isn't that big of a deal."

"Except, you _won't_ actually eat. You will make up some excuse instead such as perhaps you're too angry at me to eat—"

"I'm not even angry at you," Chris chimed in annoyance.

Wesker ignored him.

"—or perhaps work was too strenuous and you should rest—"

"Being tired is a valid reason—"

"—Or you'll create a situation if one isn't provided for you. Perhaps you'll call your sister back, cause a fight, and return to work upset tomorrow morning."

"Don't bring my sister into this, Wesker," Chris snapped.

The way Wesker treated his sister on Rockfort Isle made Chris extra weary about Wesker even talking about Claire. They didn't know each other—Hell, the first time they met was on that island and to this day Chris wasn't very sure how Wesker knew who Claire was. Chris had said her name, sure, but never did he show the blond any pictures.

"I'm attempting to help."

"You're not doing well," Chris muttered.

"I suppose there isn't much I can do. Simply seeing an issue doesn't necessarily mean I can fix it," Wesker mused quietly.

"There isn't an issue," Chris repeated.

"Very well. Why did you retreat from the date with Miss Valentine?"

"I never thought you'd care for something so trivial like an office romance gone wrong," Chris mocked.

"Normally, I wouldn't. However, this interests me."

"Why?!" Chris exclaimed, a bit too loudly. "Why are you _so_ interested in everything I do? I'm not your worry. I'm an adult and have taken care of myself way longer than you can even think so why the hell do you insist on constantly being in everything I do? You're a captain. That's it."

"Odd. Just days ago, you referred to me as your friend- A trusted friend who you were grateful to have watching over you."

Chris couldn't remember saying this but it was possible. Anything was possible because of Chris' missing memory. He could either go along with it and have it all be an elaborate plan to call Chris out, or he could deny the conversation ever happened when, in actuality, it did and he just didn't remember it.

Or this entire thing was a dream and his own mind was playing tricks on him. This was the option he was really hoping for.

"Things change."

"Apparently," Wesker muttered. "Nonetheless, why would you risk your friendship with Miss Valentine—"

"I'm not talking about this anymore."

Wesker didn't respond and Chris almost snapped at him again until their waiter stepped up to the table. A bowl of pasta was set in front of Wesker along with another refill for Chris and some eating utensils rolled up in a napkin. The man turned to Chris and, with a worried glance, began to speak.

"Are you sure you don't want something to eat?"

"I'm fine, thanks."

"No appetizer or—"

"No, really, I'm fine," Chris was attempting to remain polite but the stare Wesker was giving him was making him angry.

"Very well," the man said. He looked to Wesker and said with a smile, "enjoy your meal," before leaving the two alone once again.

The two sat alone for a long while. It was quiet. Wesker ate in silence and Chris stared at his lap where he picked at his fingernails and thought of his sister. He missed her and wanted her close to him but he supposed it wasn't safe. Raccoon City wasn't doomed for a good long while, of course, but it was still unsafe. If any of this was real, being in this part of his timeline was dangerous. This dinner never happened. This conversation never happened. The call between him and his sister was vastly different. Step by step he was managing to change things and it worried him how unsteady his own history was, especially in his memory.

He just couldn't remember a lot of it. It's not as if he had a photographic memory, of course. He remembered mostly major events. The dinner at Barry's, standing up Jill, and of course the fall of Raccoon City. It was difficult to recall many of the things that were giving him déjà vu and actually went so far as to causing him great worry. He didn't like feeling lost in his own life. He didn't like remembering things but having blanks and memories missing. It made him feel empty and alone.

He _was_ empty and alone.

"Why did you agree to this?"

"Huh?" Chris asked, glancing up. He hadn't heard the question with his own mind wandering.

"Why did you agree to the dinner?"

"Oh, I did say I would tell you that," Chris sighed. "I've felt… alone lately." He chose his words carefully and spoke slowly to avoid making a mistake. "I wanted to get my mind off of some things and I wanted to prove to you that I'm still loyal to you. I can tell that you don't trust me."

"I trust you as much as I ever have, Christopher."

Chris saw that glint in Wesker's eyes. The evil glint that he watched appear more and more often as the years went on and their fighting continued. Had Chris not known anything about his future (or was it his past? He gave up questioning it) he would ignore the glance altogether. However, as Wesker dipped his head down as he took another bite of his food, Chris rolled his eyes. The bastard had meaning far beyond what he said, Chris knew. Wesker never trusted him—at least, not completely. Chris, to an extent, understood why. Besides the betrayal looming on the horizon, Chris' background made Wesker weary, especially near the beginning of S.T.A.R.S.

Over time, Wesker would begin to see Chris' potential but for now, Wesker expected Chris to turn on him just as much as Chris expected the same from Wesker.

Chris laughed outwardly at the thought.

"Something humorous?" Wesker asked, eyebrow rising as he spoke.

"Not in the slightest."

Chris didn't elaborate and Wesker didn't press him. The blond simply returned to his food and Chris eventually grew tired of watching the man eat as his own hunger returned accompanied by a painful nauseous feeling that was too persistent to ignore.

"I think I'm going to go. I'm starting to get hungry and it's been a long day."

"If you wish."

Chris nodded and stood. He dug his hand into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and extracted a five dollar bill before setting it on the table.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"If you ever need anyone to talk to—"

"No offense, Captain, but I don't think I'd come to you. It's just too personal. S.T.A.R.S is business, nothing else," Chris stated firmly.

"I can't help but disagree. Miss Valentine was somewhat correct. We are a family of sorts."

"No we aren't." Chris didn't wait for a response and Wesker didn't give one. He simply shook his head and muttered, "Good night, Captain."

* * *

Chris sat in his car for several long minutes. He watched Wesker finish his meal shortly after Chris' departure before making his way to the table where the young male sat. They spoke and Chris saw the blond show off his teeth with his fake smile. Chris didn't wait around much longer after Wesker's eyes drifted to the window sometime during his talk with the unknown male and his eyes locked with Chris'. It was then Chris left despite hoping the young male wouldn't be a possible test subject or something of the sort.

Chris eventually made his way home and upon entering, his stomach made itself known once again. He was almost afraid to eat- he didn't want any of this to be real. Yes, he felt pain. Yes, he used the bathroom and showered daily. Yes, he had feelings- none of these things had made him fear his new life like food did.

It was exhausting, pathetic, and frightening being in this situation.

He tossed his coat onto the couch and flipped on the light. His apartment was empty as per usual. A quiet sigh and he made his way into the kitchen where he began about making a sandwich. He grabbed a bag of chips and the plate the sandwich was set on and made his way back into the living room where he took a seat on his couch. Setting the plate to his side, he grabbed the remote for the television and clicked it on.

He clicked through the channels idly though his mind was gone.

Chris Redfield wasn't a sit at home in front of the television and eat a sandwich type of guy, at least not anymore- though the drunken mess he had turned into wasn't who he was either. Perhaps Chris didn't even know who he was anymore.

He settled on the news, hoping to catch up on the recent times, and picked up his sandwich. He frowned at it for a moment before taking a bite and carefully chewing it. He swallowed and blinked as if expecting to suddenly implode or wake up from the nightmare he was living.

But he was still sitting on his leather couch with his eyes on the top piece of bread and with the news playing idly in the background.

_Maybe I'm doomed to this_ he thought, quietly musing that he deserved this for Piers' death—if Piers ever existed, of course.

A thought played in his mind that he would somehow find Piers and maybe warn him about joining the B.S.A.A in the future or maybe befriend him. He allowed himself to muse about it quietly, eyes glazed over as he imagined how it would be trying to befriend such a stubborn young man or how Chris would even find the sharpshooter in the first place.

It made him smile but the smile soon faded with the fantasy.

He couldn't go looking for Piers as if chasing a ghost. Perhaps after S.T.A.R.S disperses he could take some time and seek him out. That thought comforted him and he ate in thoughtless silence with his eyes on the television.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: I know this is a few hours late and I'm a horrible person but hopefully this nice long chapter will make up for it! I've been horribly busy and even now I'm trying to balance homework and cleaning out my closet! Enjoy and I would love some R&R. I'm not getting much which is sort of making me self conscious about this story! See you next week!**

* * *

**Chapter 5:**

**If You Wish To Forget Anything On The Spot, Make A Note That This Thing Is To Be Remembered**

_~Edgar Allan Poe_

Chris would be lying if he said he didn't miss Jill. She had been the only one to look out for him after Piers' death. She had even taken him in for a while but Chris left as soon as he could get back to work—and he did for a while. He got himself a crappy little flat and stayed busy. He shut down sometimes, had flashbacks, and suffered from blackouts when he didn't keep his mind off of things but every single time he called or texted, Jill came.

And Chris would do the same for her in a heartbeat.

He missed that friendship. He had already been through the effort of building such a complex relationship and he would have given anything to have things return to how they used to be—or they would be in the future. Time travel was truly beginning to mess with his comprehension on time.

Chris had decided early that morning that this was real. Standing in front of a mirror with a stream of blood down his jaw and dripping onto his neck was the moment. It was blood and pain and… it was real.

Chris almost cried.

Tears stung behind his eyes at the loneliness and confusion. He was angry as well though, and too concentrated on not fucking up his life to let himself cry. Chris Redfield was a determined son of a bitch and he would not let something like his own past stop him from succeeding, no matter how ridiculous or insane it was. He needed to remember and fix upcoming events as they came along which meant he needed a level head.

His reflection gave a dead stare and he hoped he could hide it.

Chris realized he was depressed after a long moment of exchanging glances with himself. His eyes shifted downward and he wiped a washcloth across the blood on his chin. He was exhausted.

He dressed and ate; quicker than the previous night but all the same with extreme caution as it was just another reminder of his predicament. He drove to the station in full uniform, as he usually did, and walked into the S.T.A.R.S office early. Wesker was there but remained in his office even after raising his gaze to glance at Chris through the window before returning to his work.

Chris was the only one in the office. He ignored Wesker's presence as their offices were mostly separated anyway. He shook off his jacket as he usually did, hung it over his chair, and took a seat. There had to be something in his desk that told more about the previous few weeks or days at least.

So, he began searching.

A calendar was the first thing he pulled from the middle drawer under his desk. It was large, the type that would sit on a desk top for easy access which quickly told him that he wasn't the type to write down his appointments and things that had to be done. A look over the mostly blank calendar proved he was right as it still had January tagged as the front page- of last year.

_Wonderful,_ he mused.

He moved his eyes to the drawer again and sighed at the mostly empty box. Highlighters, pens, pencils, paperclips- all sorts of things that you would naturally see in a drawer. A pad of white sticky notes sat on its front, first three pages folded in on themselves. Chris thought it looked as if it was thrown in- with haste or anger was the real question. He flipped it over in the drawer and pulled the top page from its place at the top.

_Tuesday_

_9 PM_

_Bar Black Jack_

_Interested?_

He repeated the words over and over in his mind- this was the night he was supposed to go out with Jill but that wasn't where he would take her on a date. That wasn't a _date_ place though considering he didn't show up- the facts lined up fine. Chris flipped through the stack quickly with his thumb and found nothing else. He pressed the note to the calendar and set the blank stack of notes on his desk top.

_I suppose I'll have to return that to Jill later_, he mused.

A door closed and Chris found Wesker exiting his office. The blond eyed Chris from behind dark shades and gave one of his fake smiles. Chris returned a fake smile and Wesker left the S.T.A.R.S office. Chris returned to what he was doing and closed the drawer. He sat back in his chair and looked at his desktop. The computer was off, clunky, a standard '98 computer.

_My reports should be on here_, he realized moving to turn it on before the realization hit.

He waited, a sense of nostalgia washing over him as he watched and listened to the fan roar to life in the tower under the desk. No password was required but Chris used to be naive- he wouldn't expect Umbrella to snoop let alone Wesker. It's very possible he had files filled with things he couldn't remember. He immediately pulled up the file interface and began clicking through the reports.

He remembered most of them- the drug busts were always memorable, after all.

Sometimes they could be huge crime rings from Florida just passing through, other times it could be the grandmother of an orphaned child just trying to get by. Chris even remembered the names of most of them though he also remembered up to three hundred of the names of the victims released in the newspapers from Raccoon City after the incident. Chris remembered tragedies far too well.

But they weren't all drug busts. Some, he found, were gambling crime rings, weapon smuggling, and there was even a case of thieving circus people who attempted one of the largest hold ups the town had ever seen.

Chris wondered how many of these had to do with Umbrella and why they would even bother sending S.T.A.R.S for the cases that a few police officers could just as easily taken care of. Sometimes the group was even sent out on simple dispute charges though Wesker was rarely happy about it. Chris assumed it had something to do with the constant fight between Wesker and Irons but Chris could really care less as both were Umbrella scum and would eventually get what was coming to them.

More searching led him to remember quite a bit about some of the things he had completely forgotten about- like the time he got shot and he was out of work for a week. Jill was so worried but Wesker was the one who showed up at his door every morning to make sure he was _taking the correct precautions to allow a full recovery and a speedy return to work where he was needed_.

He was so engrossed in one of the reports that by the end, he was surrounded by a majority of his team. Barry was late but that usually happened on Fridays Chris remembered. Everyone had gotten to work but as Chris just sat there, he wondered what they were all actually working on. He had finished his paperwork for yesterday the previous night so what exactly were they doing?

He frowned and turned back to his desktop. Wesker was still gone, probably fighting with Irons but he could be off doing anything. Maybe he's plotting with Birkin or making a serum or he could be killing someone. Chris hated not knowing.

He stood and walked towards Jill, grabbing the stack of sticky notes as he stood. He needed a reason to speak to Jill and this was as good as any, he assumed.

"Hey, Jill."

"Redfield."

It was so cold. Her eyes didn't move from her computer screen and her fingers tapped over the keys of the keyboard. Chris followed her gaze to also look at the computer screen. She was typing up a report on the weekly lessons Wesker had been giving out- Chris assumed Irons demanded them to make sure the money being put into the lessons wasn't being wasted.

"Hey, I just thought I would return this," Chris muttered, holding out the pad.

Jill stopped abruptly and twisted her neck slightly, eyes landing on the white paper. She glanced up at Chris.

"It's not mine."

Immediately she returned to work, gaze back on the screen with her fingers tapping away. Chris wasn't even sure if she was typing real words at this point.

"No but, it is. It had a note on the top that-"

Jill's glare had Chris stumbling over his words before finally he sighed.

"Let me show you."

"I'm busy, Redfield," she muttered.

Chris had already sprinted back to his desk to grab the piece of paper he had stuck to his calendar. He returned and stuck the note on her desk to grab her attention.

"You wrote this."

"I didn't write that. That's not even my handwriting _and_ we were supposed to meet at eight, not nine."

"I don't believe that, I would know your handwriting-"

Jill huffed and grabbed the pad of paper from Chris' hand. She picked up a pen and scribbled the same words down.

_Tuesday_

_9 PM_

_Bar Black Jack_

_Interested?_

They were different. Chris didn't need training to see that her T was more slanted than the note's, a very feminine way to write it, and her J had more of a hook on it. They were subtle enough differences that told Chris they weren't the same and Jill was telling the truth.

"Now will you leave me alone? I have work to do," she repeated, throwing the pen onto her desk with a clatter and returning to her work.

"Yeah- sorry," Chris sighed, grabbing the note and notepad.

Chris returned to his desk and took a seat. He stared at the two for a long time comparing them and wondering if Jill's anger could have effected the way she wrote but the original note wasn't cute. It wasn't flirty. It had no weird feminine squiggles on it or curls that would count as suggestive- it was just a note. He tore Jill's note from the top of the notepad and tossed it into his trash bin.

"We have a case. Quickly everyone."

Chris turned and found Wesker storming into the office, briskly walking past everyone before halting almost completely at Chris' desk. Chris looked up at him expecting some sort of command but, instead, the blond was smirking.

"I see you kept my note," Wesker stated, "and my notepad. I wondered where that had gone."

"Wait, your note? What?"

"We have somewhere to be, Redfield," Wesker said dismissively, grabbing the notepad from Chris' desk top and continuing through the room.

Chris blinked in confusion for a long moment before quickly following the group into the locker rooms to change.

* * *

Chris rushed to his locker and took a seat on the bench as he opened it and began pulling out his weapons. The only sound came from Wesker's explanation of the mission though his words were far from Chris' mind. Instead, Chris was much more focused on the sudden heavy feeling in his empty stomach joined with his onset headache and the now nauseous feeling burning his throat. Not knowing whether he had seen Wesker Tuesday instead of Jill was distracting him.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to wrap his mind around a memory that he knew existed but was unable to recall. He felt lost and confused once again and his mind began attempting to comprehend his current position. He was somewhere in his past with an entire future already figured out for him? How was this even possible? How did any of this make any sense? Umbrella had to have had something to do with it-

No that wouldn't make sense. Umbrella is dead from where Chris comes from, he's sure of it. Umbrella is dead, Tricell is gone, and even Neo-Umbrella didn't make it that far. So was this another B.O.W trick? Was this another virus?

Chris' green vest had been limp in his hand until a sharp pain to the temple had him drop the article to rub at his forehead. His right palm rubbed aggressively against the spot and his head tilted down as the pain became blinding. His eyes closed and he held back a groan at the unexpected pain.

"Redfield."

Chris didn't hear Wesker's words. The pained expression soon didn't go ignored by the blond and Wesker was circling around the bench without knowledge to Chris. Chris was rubbing at his eyes with the pads of his palms while his heartbeat pounded in his ears thus deafening him farther.

Chris wanted so desperately to wrap his mind around this. He was living it, after all. He was living all of this. His present was his past and his future was up in the air. Everything he did had an effect. Everything. He could somehow end up killing himself just from ordering the wrong thing at dinner from a restaurant. This wasn't okay.

"Chris," Wesker's hand on Chris' shoulder caused the brunet to jolt slightly. He could feel not only Wesker's eyes on him but also Barry's who was close by. Chris exchanged a quiet glance with Wesker for a moment but the blond didn't speak until Chris looked away. "Are you alright?"

"Fine, yeah," Chris muttered before leaning down to grab his forgotten vest at his feet.

"You heard the mission I presume?"

"Yeah," Chris responded as he slipped on the vest. He rolled his eyes when Wesker looked at him expectantly and he sighed in annoyance. "A woman, Georgia Williams, reported seeing a suspicious person, James Durrow, lingering around her neighbor's house and she claims she hasn't seen her neighbor in some time. We were called in due to the unknown danger of the mission." Chris grabbed his holster and ammo pouches from his locker before closing it.

"Interesting."

"What?" Chris snapped as he situated the straps around his upper thigh.

"I didn't supply the name of the alleged suspicious neighbor," Wesker stated quietly as the side of his lip twisted into a smirk.

Chris glanced up at the blond and gave a cold smile in response, "Lucky guess."

* * *

"You don't look so good," Jill stated nervously.

Chris was pale, Wesker noticed and Chris was sure so did the remainder of Alpha. The group was shoved into a black van with Brad at the wheel. There was no need for a helicopter this time around though Chris didn't quite know how much less conspicuous a large black van was. Wesker was in the passenger seat while the rest were sitting around in the seats provided.

When Chris didn't respond, he could see Wesker twist around in his seat and he was sure the blond's eyes glanced to Jill from behind his sunglasses before he twisted back. Chris sighed in annoyance and lowered his head before his right hand ran over the back of his head.

"Chris," Barry warned worriedly.

"I'm fine," Chris snapped, his head shifting up quickly to eye Barry.

"No you aren't, Chris, and in this profession you can't-"

"You really want to give me advice on how a team should act, Jill? You won't even speak to me unless you are in danger. Next time, why not try talking about it like an adult and not like an upset high school girl."

"Get over yourself, Chris, you think you know anything about me?" Jill snapped back, her hands speaking with her as animatedly as her facial expressions.

"Really, Jill?" Chris leaned forward to where Jill was across from him. "Your favorite food is Stromboli and you like to eat that with a glass of cabernet. A big glass. You don't enjoy television but you like action films. You current favorite would be…" Chris paused and quickly did the math in his head. Though, the pause made him glance around and realize exactly what he had just done.

"How do you know that?" Jill shouted, standing quickly. "What are you, some kind of freak?"

Chris glanced around carefully before his eyes settled back on Jill. His voice was quieter now as he said, "Instead of jumping to conclusions like making me into a stalker, maybe you can take into consideration that I listen and I actually care about my teammates. I could tell you the same information about the rest of the team except maybe Wesker because God knows none of us can possibly know anything about the great and mysterious Albert Wesker."

The quiet around the van told Chris he had possibly gone too far but he didn't care. These people were going to die in less than a year and a half and he was suppose to lay back and watch? That wasn't the type of person he was and being a captain showed him that if anyone was going to change then he needed to be the one to do it. He was going to take control of his life, now.

A glance to Wesker had him swallowing heavily, however, as the blond had removed is sunglasses and his blue-grey eyes were hard and glaring. His eyes did a once over across the van and he sat back with his hands in his lap.

"So you can care about us but we can't care about you?" Jill asked carefully, breaking the silence.

"What?" Chris asked looking to her for answers along with most of the inhabitants of the van.

"I asked you if you were okay and you snapped at me."

"You haven't spoken to me like a human being in days," Chris replied harshly and rather loudly. "I apologized and you refused to even look at me unless I annoyed you."

"So the first attempt I give to repairing the friendship you broke, you decide to go off on me about how unprofessional I am?"

Chris bit his bottom lip and chewed on it carefully. His eyes were downturned and he exhaled sharply.

"I'm not saying you're in the wrong."

"Sounds like it to me," Jill responded quickly.

"I'm saying neither of us are in the right and you can't keep blaming me. We would be better off as friends, Jill, and maybe one day I'll tell you why but for now deal with it or one of these days someone will get hurt just because you couldn't look at me."

"I'm not blaming you, Chris! I'm sorry if I needed several days to get over being completely rejected and humiliated by someone I work closely with but I would have gotten over it eventually."

Chris, knowing Jill, was well aware that was a lie. In fact Chris, having already lived through waiting for Jill to forgive him, knew very well that Jill wouldn't let him forget for years let alone talk to him like he was a human being again. Unfortunately, this conversation never happened as far as he could remember though so he could be drastically changing his future with every word that fell from his lips.

It seemed every choice he made furthered more and more from his current life and it frightened him somewhere in the back of his mind.

"Don't lie, Jill. You're a vengeful person. You would hate me for years."

"At least I would be professional at work," Jill snapped. "Unlike you who decides to point out everything wrong in a person when we should be going over strategies."

"Easy. The assailant, and he is an assailant because he killed Miss Williams' neighbor and stuffed her body in the closet of the basement, will be found in the main bedroom squatting with his cousin who won't be there. They were homeless and picked up a job from Umbrella to transfer some medication somewhere but they sold it instead and were on the run. The neighbor has no family and has been missing since last Wednesday."

There was a long minute of rigid silence as everyone reacted differently. Albert's eyes were wide, Joseph had a hand on Barry's shoulder to stop him from interrupting, Jill got angrier, and Brad remained quiet like always.

"See, like that, Chris! How do you think you're right?"

"Because I am, Jill. You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Maybe Umbrella has too much power and maybe there are people trying to stop them. Maybe someone told me anonymously but I didn't believe them. Or maybe something else happened but what does it matter, Jill? If anyone screws up just once, someone dies. I could know exactly what would happen next but what would it fucking matter? It wouldn't! You can't prevent something when people are so unpredictable."

"You're right, it doesn't matter because you apparently knew information we didn't and you were with-holding that information."

"Redfield informed me of the tip," Wesker stated to Jill. "It sounded unworthy of our time and I made the decision to ignore it. He was following my orders."

Chris looked at Wesker as the blond outright lied for him. He was internally stuck between calling him out completely or simply allowing Wesker to take the fall as he was. Chris kept his mouth closed as Jill's eyebrows furrowed and the group looked to the blond.

"You? You lied to us?"

Chris felt guilty.

He felt sick.

This exact thing would happen but Joseph would be dead, Barry's family will be in danger, and they will be battling hoards of zombies in a year and a half and the man behind it all was currently the one helping him?

Chris couldn't handle this. It was just too stressful for someone who had already been through hell and back multiple times.

Chris' entire life had been nothing but fighting. Fighting monsters, fighting people, fighting governments, fighting corporations- but he had never once been alone. He always had someone near him to support him and guide him through some unthinkable things but now-

Chris Redfield was alone.

Jill Valentine hated him, the group thought he lied to them, the man who he had looked up to his first time around would try to kill him in a few months time, and Claire had a life. Chris had no family, no friends, and no mentor.

Chris Redfield was alone.

"I can't do this," Chris sighed quietly.

"What?" Jill snapped.

"I… can't… do this!" Chris shouted.

"We've been at this for a couple of months, Chris, and already the stress is getting to you?" Jill shouted back with a scoff.

"Months, yeah," Chris muttered.

The two stopped and everyone sat. The van had stopped moving and Chris realized they had probably arrived at the destination though he was well aware the group wasn't prepared to go in. He hoped Wesker would call in Bravo and allow them to take over but he doubted it heavily due to the Umbrella involvement.

"Are you children finished?" Wesker's words broke through the silence.

"If those children don't learn to get along, Captain, we can't go on the mission," Barry sighed.

"Yes we can! I can be professional," Jill snapped assuredly.

Chris didn't hear the words as his focus shifted from the people around him to the pain shooting through his temple and throbbing against a heavy head. His mouth was dry and his lower back had chills at the pain though he tried painfully hard to return his attention to the fight if only to ignore the pain and sudden overwhelming depression.

"Chris isn't well enough to go, look at him!" Jill hissed assumedly in response to something Chris had missed. "You hide one thing and you just keep hiding things, right? Did you know about his health too, Captain?"

"Miss Valentine, I'll have to ask you to stop," the blond stated in his 'I'm still Captain of this team' voice.

The silence that followed his words told enough about the team. Chris remained silent due to his pain but the rest was silent out of fear- not respect. The group feared Wesker more than respected him at the time and trust had yet to set in. Instead, they followed his orders out of fear and due to his position.

"We can speak about this once we return to the office. For now, we have a mission."

"Yes, sir," Jill muttered and the group went into action.

Jill, Joseph, and Barry left the back of the van before Chris. Chris followed closely behind though he was distant. He followed the three members towards the house before being stopped by a hand on his shoulder. Chris turned but the sudden movement sent him reeling and before he could comprehend who pulled his attention, everything went dark.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: I bet you guys are kinda wondering where the Chris/Wesker part comes in. I'm sorry, but this is going to be a very plot heavy. There will DEFINITELY be Chris/Wesker and it will be sex and whatnot but not for another few chapters. Just enjoy their angsty flirting for now and, again, R&R is great!**

* * *

**Chapter 6**

**Half A Truth Is Often A Great Lie**

_-Benjamin Franklin_

Chris doesn't remember opening his eyes. He doesn't remember waking at all, really. It was more of a very sudden awareness. He hadn't even realized that he was currently staring at a picture of a smiling Wesker.

Picture Wesker wore a lab coat, Umbrella Corporation logo stitched on the left breast pocket above his nametag that that read '_A. Wesker'_. His smile seemed real though it was light, airy, in the moment, and all of the things Chris never assumed to see in a smile from Albert Wesker. The blond had his left hand tucked into his lap coat but his right was around the neck of a male who was a similar height to Wesker.

The mysterious man's dirty blond hair was mussed and shaggy, a rather comparative difference to Wesker who was as proper and well put together as ever with his hair and glasses in place. The man also wore a lab coat that held a nametag but rather than wearing dress pants beneath like Wesker, a simple pair of light blue jeans could be seen beneath the coat.

Chris' eyes ran across the man's nametag several times.

_W. Birkin_.

Chris had never seen what Birkin looked like; no file ever held his picture and Chris was out of Raccoon City at the time of his death. This was the man behind G. This was the man responsible for Sherry growing up without either of her parents. This man had an arm hooked around Wesker's neck and a smile on the face.

Chris scowled.

It felt wrong.

"You're awake," Wesker's voice came from somewhere.

Chris didn't respond. He sat up carefully and slowly, looking to where the picture frame sat on Wesker's desk. Chris glanced around with mild interest. He was on the brown leather couch pushed to the side of Wesker's office. The couch was a small love seat and Chris' legs were sticking off the end when he had been lying on it. He looked up and found Wesker leaning against the door frame with his ankles crossed and hands shoved into his pockets.

"What happened?" Chris asked quietly.

"You fainted."

Chris quickly planted his feet firmer to the ground and straightened. His eyes searched for a clock and found the white walls empty. He pushed his palms to his eyes and rubbed vigorously.

He couldn't keep doing this. He couldn't keep shutting down. He needed to focus his energy into something that was productive. He needed to figure things out but his mind was having such an issue wrapping around the entire idea of _going back in time_ that all energy was drained from him by the depression alone let alone the attempts to comprehend it and work through it.

His logical mind could process genetically enhanced human beings that have turned into monsters, sure.

But not this.

Chris sat in Wesker's office with Wesker in the doorway until his mind was able to fabricate an excuse for his outburst earlier that day. Eyes drifted from the floor to the doorway where he exchanged glances with Wesker.

"Do you mind explaining what happened?" Wesker asked calmly.

"I don't know what happened. I was fine and then I wasn.t"

Chris' words were cold, snipped, _confused_ because he WAS confused. He was more confused than he had ever been in his life.

"And how exactly did you come by the information you divulged earlier?" Wesker asked more firmly.

"Does it matter?" Chris asked fingers hooking around the back of his neck. He allowed his right hand to hang there for a moment, applying pressure to the kink that rested there before releasing his grip and allowing it to fall back to his lap.

"I covered for you, Christopher."

"Yeah, why? Why would you do that, exactly? I could be betraying S.T.A.R.S, giving information to the enemy—"

"And who is the enemy, Chris?" Wesker asked before taking a step deeper into the room.

_Umbrella,_ Chris thought almost immediately.

"Criminals. I could be one. You could have just defended the person who is going to take down S.T.A.R.S."

"But I didn't," Wesker stated simple.

"How would you know?" Chris challenged.

"I know you, Christopher, you seem to forget that. You also seem to forget that we are on the same side. As your captain, I have your back. It would be nice for you to return the favor," Wesker rounded the couch and stood in front of Chris, lower back leaning against the side of his desk.

"Anonymous tip."

Chris' words were blunt, without emotion, and dripping with sarcasm. The blond chuckled dryly and shook his head, head down.

"I don't know what I expected," Wesker muttered to the floor.

"Why should I tell you the truth? You didn't tell us you worked for Umbrella," Chris stated.

Wesker had a moment—just a moment. He froze. His shoulders had been rising and falling with his breathing and hunched over prior to Chris' words but Chris watched them—they stopped. The blond's head was down, covering his face, but Chris _saw_ Wesker's body go rigid. He saw it tense. He saw the shoulders tighten and muscles twitch.

Then, Wesker slowly raised his head to look at Chris and the two exchanged glances once again.

"I never worked for Umbrella, Christopher. I could have told you that had you asked."

"Your nametag. Why would you have a nametag had you _not_ worked for Umbrella?"

Wesker stared at him for a moment before slowly twisting his neck around to where the picture frame sat on his desk. Chris sat his jaw tense, saw the way his tongue moved behind closed lips—Even with Wesker wearing glasses, Chris could read the man so well.

Wesker turned back around, this time with a smirk.

"I was a guest—"

"You know Birkin, the man beside you."

"Yes, obviously," Wesker snapped under his breath.

"Birkin looks like a scientist—"

"How can you possible know _that_?" Wesker asked carefully, challengingly.

"His clothing. You're professional at all times, Captain. The pant legs at the bottom of the picture can be seen. He's wearing jeans. Nobody working around people could wear something like that and get away with it. He obviously doesn't work around many people. And why would Umbrella go through the trouble of making you your own labcoat? The namtag is sewn _into_ the clothing."

Wesker's eyes remained on Chris. His fingers were interlocked in his lap, moving subtly in a way that Chris was sure Wesker was stuck between being thoroughly impressed and wanting to kill him. This made Chris smile somewhere inside.

"Care to explain?" Chris asked, Captain voice coming out once again now that they were alone and his elder self was exposed once again.

Wesker remained silent as he reached behind him with his left hand and grasped the picture frame. He pulled it back into his line of vision and removed his glasses with his right hand, holding them against his thigh as he examined the picture.

"William Birkin is a close friend of mine. Your sister may know _of_ him from watching Sherry, however, I highly doubt the two have ever met. He is a scientist for the Umbrella Corporation but I do not work for them, Christopher. I am simply his friend. I often find myself with him during my free time and he rarely leaves his work so I often accompany him. It's against policy to be around their experiments and various work related objects so William had this made."

Wesker continued to stare at the picture while Chris attempted to sort through the lies and truths Wesker had just told. Chris seemed to only pick out one lie—clever bastard keeping as close to the truth as possible.

"You look young in the picture."

"I was. He's worked there for quite some time. I don't take kindly to pictures much anymore but I quite like this one. I rarely have seen him this happy as of late."

"Where did you work before S.T.A.R.S?" Chris asked carefully.

Wesker looked over the picture frame to Chris with raised eyebrows and Chris visibly shrugged.

"You lie to me and expect me to elaborate on my life farther than proving you wrong?" Wesker asked a hint of humor in his voice.

"Fine, what do you want to know?"

"How did you come by the information you expressed earlier? Mission details and the lot."

"Undercover work," Chris said with a slight pause and sigh. "Lots and lots of undercover work. Someone called in last week about some strange smells and I sent a few cop cars to do sweeps—"

"You don't have the authority."

"I have friends," Chris stated with a shrug. "And people who owe me. I wanted to make sure it was okay, that's all. They ended up watching the place undercover for a few days and had even half moved into the house across the street. The assailants were clumsy idiots, really. The police officers got the names of the suspects and the victim almost immediately and they predictedthe victim was in basement because it was the room most avoided by the two. The police officers frequently saw large black SUVs drive through the area with the Umbrella logo on the side of them—it was obvious."

"You have quite the eye, Christopher."

"It's why you hired me, sir," Chris stated quietly.

"Among other reasons."

"Can I go?"

"You don't want to know what my previous occupation was before this?" Wesker asked carefully."

"Not really. You'll just lie again."

Wesker smirked.

"Why the rush?"

"I have some things to figure out," Chris shot back as he stood.

"Such as attempting to recall our meeting?"

Chris visibly shook his head in confusion.

"What?"

"You don't recall meeting at Blackjack or my giving you the note. You seem rather convinced it didn't happen."

"I know it happened, I was there at the meeting—"

"I don't quite believe that."

"And why is that?" Chris asked carefully.

"We never met at the bar. You didn't show up. I assumed it was in favor of seeing Miss Valentine, however, I was quite mistaken."

Chris just stared at Wesker. How could the blond be _so_ infuriating from simply being _right_? Chris was sure it was from knowing too much about the future. He never really found himself this annoyed with his captain until now. Though, Chris realized, he had quite liked when Wesker was right back in the day. When Wesker was right, it usually meant good things for Chris or S.T.A.R.S in general. Chris almost missed the naivety. He missed seeing the man standing in front of him and wanting to smile rather than throw a punch—or worse.

Instead he was faced with this.

A smirk played at Wesker's smug lips and Chris shook his head, eyes narrowed. Chris could see the daring eyes staring back at him, challenging him to say anything to try and fix it. Wesker's arms were crossed over his chest, upper arms tense and shapely straining against the blue sleeve of his S.T.A.R.S shirt. His weapons and pouches were gone, as was Chris' Chris realized, and his ankles were crossed once again.

The bastard was so damn smug.

"Look, thanks for everything—covering for me, bringing me here—but I probably should be resting or something," Chris said with a shrug and a hand motion to the door.

"Your gratitude is unnecessary."

"Then I'll be on my way."

"If you insist."

Chris stood for a moment in the awkward silence. He nodded to Wesker who returned it slowly, more contemplatively. Wesker watched Chris move towards the door.

Chris stopped.

"Hang on—"

Chris turned on his heel and looked back at Wesker.

"Yes?"

Chris blinked at him; his eyes were narrow and his mouth slightly agape but…

"You wanted me to meet you at a bar even though you already knew I was meeting Jill an hour before."

"Yes."

"But… why? That makes no sense. Why would you have wanted me to stand Jill up to see you? What was so important?"

Wesker smirked.

"You already know this Christopher. We had quite a long discussion about it."

"When?"

"Monday. You stayed late to assist me with paperwork. Do you really not recall—"

"Nevermind," Chris said quickly, turning around and leaving the office.

Barry and Frost had been sitting in the office. Both looked up and nodded to him and Chris nodded back with a planted smile before making his way out of the office altogether.

Chris drove towards his apartment, blaring 90s rock music from his radio in an attempt to stop overanalyzing Wesker's words. It was exactly what Wesker wanted. Wesker quite enjoyed making people think, even in S.T.A.R.S and Chris wouldn't fall for it. He just wouldn't. He refused. Chris Redfield was better than this.

But then he thought.

He never remembered the note. He never remembered the late night conversation—hell, the two men had enough of them during the two years that they blended together in his mind. Chris was _always_ staying late to help Wesker, maybe that was why this was the perfect lie.

Or Wesker was testing him. Maybe Wesker planted the note and had Chris go through all of this just to prove Chris was hiding something. Would Wesker really do that?

Would Wesker betray S.T.A.R.S?

Chris assumed if there was a yes to the latter question, a yes could follow any question that viewed Wesker in a negative light. Wesker was conniving, after all. He knew how to get what he needed or wanted and the blond wasn't very good at taking no for an answer.

Wesker had Chris under his grasp even with Chris one hundred steps in front of him. The brunet sighed—he supposed not all was lost even though had he been better at hiding his situation he wouldn't necessarily be dealing with any of this.

Wesker had no idea Chris knew more than he should about the future, not really. Not unless he went through the extra trouble of attempting to track down the police officers who assisted Chris—there was quite a few, Chris doubted Wesker would try.

But Wesker was Wesker.

This _was_ the man who went through the effort of luring S.T.A.R.S into a trap just to see how good Umbrella's BOWs were.

Chris chewed profusely on his lower lip. His eyes were on the orange cast sky and the glow it created over the city. It was difficult for him to consider what attempting to protect the city would do—he could save… Everyone.

He _could_ save so much. Everything.

It all rode on him.

Chris gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white and he exhaled a deep breath.

Chris Redfield was a B.S.A.A Captain. He was a leader, a savior, and he would never just give up. Depression would not stop him. Not anymore. Piers died because of him. He would live to make sure Piers never has to make that sacrifice if it kills him trying.

A thought crossed his mind that he honestly doesn't even want to address. He could let Wesker do this. He could let Wesker betray them, kill all of Raccoon City, and allow him to eventually move to Africa where Chris can end him like it should be—It would ensure Chris' safety of getting to Piers.

But it didn't take a genius to see why a thought like that would cross his mind.

Piers' death was new.

Fresh.

Recent.

These people—the tragedy of Raccoon City had been so many years ago. Chris, truthfully, barely thought of it.

But here they were living and breathing and he couldn't let them down. He wouldn't let them down.

Chris Redfield would just have to make a backup plan.

Just in case.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Despite knowing exactly where I'm headed with this story, it's so difficult updating it at the right time, geh! Anywho! Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

**Study The Past, If You Would Divine The Future**

_-Confucius_

Dirty brown hair clung to a sweat drenched forehead. Chris' torso was soaked through front and back and he was sure he had a rank smell—but he didn't care. It was the first real workout he had since he woke up in Raccoon City. Unfortunately, he hadn't even gone for the full hour and a half that his older body (and mind) was accustomed to.

His younger body had stronger leg muscles than upper arm like his older self and he quickly became confused when the weight he was used to working out with as a warm up made him sore almost immediately. His legs, however, were far easier to exercise and he spent longer on a treadmill than he ever remembered.

But this was something he needed to not only clear his head but to also work off a lot of the pent up stress plaguing him as well.

He had spent the entire day Saturday documenting any and all suspicious news material that could somehow be traced back to Umbrella if anyone bothered to do the work and fight all the people Umbrella had already paid off. Luckily, with very minimal research, Chris was able to do most of that work himself. At one point, it was so simple he wondered if anyone ever actually questioned why Umbrella had shares in so many different companies that all seemed to be having illegal activity near or within it.

This was his fail safe. He had pages and pages of proof that he laid out perfectly in order for anyone to read—and he made multiple copies.

Despite the copies, he wanted to go through great lengths to keep them hidden—he needed to hide it in plain sight but to do that he needed someone's name to put it under. Someone he could rely on to get the information out and someone who Wesker couldn't get to beforehand.

He spent all of Sunday trying to figure out who he could trust with such a task. His first thought was Jill but in her current condition with their relationship she might go straight to Wesker. True, she was more than trustworthy during her B.S.A.A days but…. Chris had to crudely remind himself that those days are far, far ahead of him.

His second thought was Barry but Chris didn't want to risk Barry's family. It wasn't fair to ask him to do it especially when there was a high chance Chris would have to wait until after Wesker blackmailed Barry to make a move on Umbrella or at least Wesker—though he had high expectations that such a day was quickly coming. Nonetheless, Chris couldn't ask something like that of Barry but, Chris supposed, it _could_ be a backup.

Frost was trustworthy enough but was he skilled and determined enough to handle the information correctly? Chris wasn't sure. Vickers certainly wasn't either of those things let alone dependable so he was quickly thrown off the list.

And Chris didn't necessarily know any of the Bravo team well enough to give them a task like this except for Enrico but he was too close to Wesker and Chris was sure Enrico had a target on his back far larger than anyone else Chris knew.

That's where Claire came in.

It was Sunday night, now, and Chris had showered and eaten with thoughts of the inevitable in the back of his mind. He sat on his couch and looked at the phone that he nearly feared. Chris had never not wanted to talk to his sister but in this moment, with the past week being how it was, he had never dreaded anything so much since Piers' funeral.

_But_, Chris mused bitterly, _I suppose that hasn't happened yet_.

Yet.

Chris was getting sidetracked.

He loved his sister dearly, of course, but he just didn't want her to get wrapped up in all of this. She needed to stay away, far away, where it was safe and not essentially a ticking time bomb like this town was. But he needed her help.

Chris picked up the phone and pressed it to his ear, listening to the tone on the other end for a moment to sooth him.

And then he dialed.

It rang. And it rang. And it ra—

"Hello?"

It was a male voice.

"Uh, hey is Claire there?" Chris asked carefully.

"Yeah, just a sec."

Chris heard muffled shouting and Claire's voice getting closer to the phone. Chris' finger twirled the phone cord

"Claire speaking."

"Is your boyfriend already living with you?" Chris asked partially accusingly with a hint of humor.

"Chris! I thought you were mad at me!"

"I got over it but I'm starting to reconsider."

"No, he isn't living with me. We were just about to go out."

"This won't take long," Chris assured her and he heard her chuckle.

"Don't worry about it, he can wait. You're my brother. Now, what's up?"

"Tomorrow, I'm going to open two different P.O boxes in your name and if anything ever happens to me, I want you to open them both. One will be in your town and the other here in Raccoon City."

"Is everything okay, Chris?" She asked quietly, hushing her voice and pressing her lips to the receiver. She sounded worried and Chris didn't blame her. This must sound terrifying—well, really, it _was_ terrifying but Chris had been through it so many times before…

"For now," Chris responded. "Our missions are getting suspicious. I'll be steadily adding to what I'm putting in both boxes. I'll make sure to keep them both updated but you need to do three different things."

"Of course, anything."

"You can't tell anyone about this."

"Understood."

"If you have to open it make sure to do what you think is right. I suggested two separate organizations in the information provided. You don't have to choose either of them but… they're going to get you places, okay?"

"Understood," Claire's voice wavered. She was confused; Chris was aware and wished he could sit here for hours and explain why he was doing this and what was going to happen and his entire situation but he couldn't. This was the best he could do.

"Lastly, you cannot open either one unless something happens to me. That means if I'm arrested or if Umbrella decides to do anything—"

"Who is Umbrella?"

It was odd hearing that come out of Claire's mouth. She didn't know who they were yet. Chris never explained and she didn't live in Raccoon City. Barry was the only reason Chris came here and the potential job that living here provided. He sighed into the phone.

"Umbrella Corporation. They're a pharmaceutical company and they have their hand in most, if not all, companies around Raccoon City. They're large worldwide."

"Oh, right. Sorry, I'm a college student. It's not like I can just pay for the most expensive medicines. I've heard of them but why would they—"

"Just promise, Claire."

There was silence from the other line. No distant sound of a television or upset boyfriend could be heard. Just silence. And Chris waited because he knew all too well how such demands could sound and how worrying they could be but Claire was strong and he knew she could handle it.

"Hun, can you run and get my purse?" Chris heard from Claire though it sounded distant as if she had put the phone down to speak, "Because I want to make sure my wallet's in it. Thanks." A pause of silence and she spoke again. "Chris, are you in danger?" her tone was hushed once again and she sounded almost frantic.

"Yes," Chris stated. "I can't tell you why."

"Of course you can't. You expect me to just be okay with this? Hold on," Claire hissed into the phone and Chris could hear the rustling as she pressed the phone to her torso. Chris couldn't hear what she said this time but she returned quickly. "Sorry, he doesn't know much about you."

"He can't know about this."

"I know."

Chris heard Claire sigh and Chris sat back.

"I'm not expecting you to be okay with anything, Claire. I expect you to trust me. Eventually, I will tell you everything and you may not believe me but things will make sense."

"I hope you're right, Chris."

"I am. You still haven't promised me—"

"Fine, fine. I promise. Just don't get yourself killed. I don't care how crazy you are."

"Dying isn't what I'm worried about."

* * *

Chris stared at the splotched white ceiling above his head whilst he was lying half naked under blankets that were pulled to his waist. He was listening to the rain against his bedroom window and the roof of his apartment. He enjoyed the rain. It relaxed him. His right hand tucked itself under the back of his head and his mind wandered momentarily.

He was stuck on Barry and how Wesker would inevitably blackmail him. _Maybe,_ Chris thought, _Maybe Wesker wouldn't blackmail him at first. Wesker is sneaky, he could encourage Barry to assist with things, use his title as Captain and the unmovable trust Barry held to his advantage. _

Chris scowled.

Wesker could easily have Barry spy on Chris without Barry getting suspicious in the slightest. Barry would run to Wesker in a heartbeat if Chris told him anything about the future. Jill would too, Chris realized.

Chris turned on his side and closed his eyes. He had to be careful.

* * *

Chris walked into the S.T.A.R.S office with a smile on his face. He opened up both P.O boxes and currently had one large packet on its way to the box closest to Claire. He wouldn't put anything in the Raccoon City one for a while as he was still gathering evidence and figured it would be a bit suspicious if anyone was watching him.

Maybe Chris was being paranoid but to anyone who knew Chris, they would immediately think he was acting strange. He needed to keep everything quiet.

"Feeling better?" Barry asked.

Chris looked up to find Barry leaning near Jill's desk. Jill had something pulled up on her computer screen and both had their necks strained to look at Chris.

"Yeah, thanks," Chris responded with a smile and nod.

He shed his coat and hung it over the back of his seat, as per usual.

"What happened Friday? I've never seen you like that, Chris," Barry said quietly, walking towards Chris' desk. Jill was on his heel.

"Nothing, I just wasn't feeling well. I think I came down with something over the weekend but I'm fine now. Whatever it was, it didn't last long."

"Good to hear, Chris," Barry said with a nod. A strong hand rested on Chris' shoulder for a moment before he turned and went to his desk.

Jill remained. She stood, arms crossed over her chest and body rigid. Her eyes were planted to the floor and Chris saw that she was worrying her lip.

"I'm sorry, you know," Chris said, voice barely over a whisper.

"Yes, I know," Jill responded just as quietly.

"And for Friday—"

"Yeah," Jill responded. "I was wrong too."

"You weren't wrong. You were saying things that needed to be said. Wrong timing, maybe, but not wrong to say."

"Not all of it. I don't like Captain Wesker thinking I don't trust him just because he keeps secrets from us for our own protection," Jill said with a shrug, "and if you need help you should feel comfortable coming to the group not just Wesker."

"I needed to know whether it was worth looking into, that was all. He didn't think it was at the time. Still, things in S.T.A.R.S haven't been very comfortable lately, have they?"

"I guess that's our fault."

"Look, why don't we go out to dinner—" the look that appeared on Jill's face was _almost_ priceless. The mix of fear and anger and a bit of dry humor before Chris continued quickly, "—As friends!"

Jill looked at him doubtfully and muttered, "I don't have to wear makeup?"

"You could wear pajamas for all I care."

"Fine. Tomorrow? I have to babysit tonight for Barry."

"That's fine. Whatever works."

"We have another defense class at eleven," Jill sighed. "I was thinking of doing some shooting practice before then. You know I could always use the practice."

"We all could."

"Not you. You're the best sharpshooter in Alpha!" Jill laughed.

_Piers was better_.

"No better than Captain Wesker, I'm sure!" Barry shouted with a laugh from his desk.

"I heard my name," Wesker stated, stepping out of his office.

The blond wore his sunglasses inside and nobody questioned him. Chris sometimes wondered why he bothered. It wasn't bright within the office—in fact, the exact opposite—and Chris had even seen him wear the damn things at night. Chris wondered if it was because his eyes portrayed so much of his emotion. Wesker had an outstanding poker face, the best Chris had ever seen, at least. But Chris could look into his eyes and see what emotion he was feeling almost as easy as feeling it himself.

Though, Chris wasn't sure if it was _just_ him or if others could read him as easily as well.

"Who do you think is a better sharpshooter, Captain?" Jill asked. "You or Chris?"

"Chris, definitely," he stated seriously. "My skill resides in my swift movements and knowledge of the human mind. I can easily assume what someone will do next in any given situation and I am rarely wrong. This being said, Chris' skill lies in his concentration and precision."

"That's true. I guess that's why you're a backup pilot, huh?" Brad chimed from his desk.

"Partially. I actually highly assume you will, at one point, leave us in a very dire situation and we will need someone equally versed in your job to either cover or help us escape. You've already done so once before, Vickers," Wesker explained coldly.

"It was once, Captain! I won't do it again!"

Chris scoffed loudly and shook his head. He never really forgave Brad for leaving them at the Spencer Mansion. It was his fault they were forced to go into the mansion at all, but it was also Wesker's fault for putting him in the situation when he knew what sort of person he was—Chris supposed that was the blond's plan.

Nonetheless, it was stupid.

Or maybe it was brilliant, Chris wasn't sure.

"I'm sure you won't, Vickers. Everyone, get back to work," Wesker barely commanded before turning on his heel. "Redfield!"

Chris sighed and stood from his seat.

"Tomorrow after work?"

"Perfect."

"Great."

Chris nodded to Jill and began walking towards Wesker's office. He wouldn't know why the man possibly wanted to see him after Friday night but he followed him inside.

"The door," Wesker stated.

Chris shut it but stood nearby just in case. Chris could tell from Wesker's tone that he was unhappy. The blond wasn't seething, he rarely did that, but he looked mildly annoyed and was not prepared to handle any bullshit. Luckily, Chris didn't care.

"Sit."

Chris obeyed and sat in one of the chairs in front of Wesker's desk. The desk itself had very little personal objects on it beside the picture. A nameplate, stack of papers, and a desktop were all piled onto it in an orderly fashion.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Irons is upset."

"He's always upset. Throw money at him, he'll be fine."

"He is your boss, Redfield."

"He's yours too, _Captain_."

Chris could feel Wesker's eyes narrow behind the dark glasses that hid them. He saw the blond's jaw clench and watched him change positions in his seat. Wesker's fingers laced together and sat on his lap as he leaned back in his office chair and sighed.

"I covered for you, Redfield."

"Why?"

"You have potential."

_You want me dead_.

"Enough to put your job on the line?" Chris asked. His arms rested on the arm rests where his hands were gripping. Wesker was just such a good liar, it was sickening.

"Yes, Christopher. Enough to put my job on the line."

"So why is he angry?"

"Fridays's incident."

"He's mad that I fainted?" Chris asked with a scoff.

"No, that we had to call in Bravo. He isn't happy about the money spent. I assured him it was a necessity with your health. I may have also threatened a minor lawsuit. Nonetheless, he backed away."

"I appreciate it."

"Of course you do."

"Why am I in here?" Chris asked suddenly. "You don't care for my appreciation so why am I here?"

"I must ask you a question."

"Alright, fire away."

"Do you believe that you would be a better Captain than I am?"

Chris stared at him. He blinked several times and remained quiet as if expecting Wesker to explain the question but he didn't. The blond looked at him expectantly, blond eyebrows raised behind shades and lips pursed.

Chris didn't know what to say.

Because yes, he was a better Captain possibly if only because he didn't betray his team.

…. On purpose.

Honestly, maybe he wasn't a better Captain. Maybe he was just a better _person_ and that's why he would be better but Wesker couldn't know he actually felt like this. Not yet, anyway. That would come later.

"Why would you ask that, Captain?"

"Just answer the question."

"No, of course not."

"And why is that?"

Chris was, once again, taken aback by the question.

"I… Uh.. Well, I mean there's a difference between being a part of a team and leading the team. I'm not a leader. Barry is a leader, maybe, but I'm—"

"You have confidence in your hunches. You don't take authority well, Christopher, you give it. You demand it."

"And that means I want your job?"

"No, of course not. I simply wanted to hear your opinion."

"Fine, okay. Was my response satisfactory?"

"Enough."

"Great. I have a report to write—"

"Very well. Return."

Chris stood and began towards the door. He felt Wesker's eyes on him, felt the silence weigh in the room and he sighed. He looked back towards Wesker and with a quiet voice, mumbled—

"Thanks again."


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Oh it's late. It's so very, very late. I know. My birthday is this weekend and I've been swamped for the past two weeks on celebrations and homework. I'm sorry! Expect one _next_ week at the regular time!**

* * *

**Chapter 8**

**Patience and Time Do More Than Strength Or Passion**

_-Jean De La Fontaine_

The room was mostly silent. The clock ticked incessantly on one of the partially padded walls. Chris stood awkwardly with the remainder of Alpha team, arms crossed over his chest, and eyes on the blond in the center of the room. The team seemed far too accustom to waiting around for a member of the team to walk in—this time it was Brad.

Chris eyed the ticking clock and glanced around to his fellow members to find annoyed and angry looks exchanging glances with him.

"I wish Brad would stop forgetting about these damn things. Captain Wesker reminds us before every meeting and Brad _always_ forgets," Jill muttered to Barry.

"Give him a break, he's nervous," Barry responded.

"About what?! There's nothing to be nervous about!"

A pause.

"You have a point," Barry muttered.

"Quiet. I understand your anger but he is still a valued member of this team," Wesker snapped from the center of the room.

Chris rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to speak. The double doors of the gym burst open and he quickly stopped, turning on his heel. Brad rushed inside babbling through his panting at Wesker who seemed unmoved.

"I'm so sorry sir. I must have forgot—it won't happen aga—"

"Quiet," Wesker repeated.

"Sir," Brad muttered.

"I want to continue with hand-to-hand combat. Some are better than others, obviously. I would prefer if you paired yourself with someone who has an equal talent to your own. Please do so now."

Chris watched as Jill paired with Brad and Joseph paired with Barry. Chris turned back to see Wesker in front of him, smirk on his lips and smug grey eyes visible without the dark shades to block them. Chris sighed and uncrossed his arms.

"What makes you think we're compatible in hand-to-hand?"

"The lack of compatibility you seem to have with anyone else suggests we have similar talent," Wesker said, the smirk unmoving.

"You mean just because everyone else decided to pair up with someone that means you're obviously a better fit?"

"Yes, exactly."

"Fine."

Wesker's smirk renewed and he looked to the others as he spoke.

"Everyone seems to have a partner, correct?"

A scattered variety of 'yes, sir' came from the group and Chris grumbled under his breath pulling Wesker's attention for a moment before he looked back to the group.

"Begin," Wesker said before turning back to Chris.

Wesker seemed to have a special kind of talent when it came to confusing Chris because the blond looked at Chris expectedly, eyebrows raised and a ghost of a smirk on his lips. Wesker hadn't necessarily given the group a task. Hand-to-hand varied so greatly and each person had a skill that mirrored their partner but with no direction, they had little to do with that skill.

Chris glanced around. Everyone seemed a bit lost as well. Jill was laughing as Brad put up two fists in preparation before laughing himself. Barry and Joseph were talking each other through steps of various hand-to-hand moves.

Chris turned back to Wesker.

"What are we doing exactly?"

"What would you like to do?" Wesker countered smoothly.

"What are you expecting from me?"

Wesker shrugged.

Chris scoffed and shook his head in exasperation.

"What do you want me to do? You expect me to hit you? Or do you want me to take hits from you just because you're my captain?"

In one swift movement that Chris didn't see coming, the blond's fist went flying. The strong punch landed on Chris' jaw causing him to reel backwards. His hand grabbed his jawline, holding it as if expecting pain but it took a moment for the ache to settle in. He felt it swell, felt the sting as his body caught up with the action and the shock quickly wore off.

"You BASTARD!" Chris growled, looking up at him.

This pulled the attention of the room.

"Oh, I apologize. I didn't realize an assailant would converse with you before attacking," Wesker responded.

Wesker stepped forward and Chris stepped back.

As much as Chris wanted to fight Wesker—as much as he desperately wanted to attack him—he couldn't. He may not be able to stop himself if he (somehow) got the upper hand but he honestly didn't know what his strengths were right now in his younger body. He was fast on his feet, probably because he was smaller now than he was before—or later, time was confusing—nonetheless he didn't look like he would be punching any boulders anytime soon so he knew it wasn't right to try and go against Wesker.

"I'm not fighting you!"

"I'm just like them, Chris. I am nothing more than one of your colleagues. I'm not your boss nor your captain. I am a man. Hit me."

"I'm not going to—"

Wesker threw another punch. Chris blocked it this time but he was easily overpowered and a second punch was thrown. Chris stumbled once again, left hand clutching his stomach. He looked up at Wesker to find him smirking as smug as ever.

"Why do you want me to fight you? I don't _get_ you!" Chris growled. "You're my captain!"

"And you are a sharpshooter who has more potential than you believe. You don't need to hide behind a gun, Christopher. I would like to see your talent first hand. Show me. I know you would like to—it's quite obvious, you know. I understand your issues with authority—"

"I don't have issues with authority until my boss starts demanding I hit him!" Chris shouted, hand pulling from his aching stomach to wave around in exasperation.

"Oh but you do. A simple dream has put you into a state of paranoia that I cannot seem to pull you out of so I insist you hit me."

"A dream?" Chris cursed under his breath and shook his head. "Insist all you want but I'm not going to hit yo—"

Wesker stepped forward and before Chris stepped backwards a nimble kick had him stumbling for a third time. Chris caught himself and coughed.

"I'm not doing this, Wesker! I'm done with this game!"

"And yet."

Wesker tilted his head and he smirked.

His lips mirrors Chris' nightmares of the man- the very same nightmares that traveled with him before and after Africa. The smirk the man wore when he betrayed S.T.A.R.S.

Chris stopped thinking and attacked.

He bolted forward and in that moment, he forgot he was in S.T.A.R.S. He quite suddenly remembered being part of the B.S.A.A and being a captain and the fact that he had already defeated Wesker and he was on Wesker in no time.

He leaped at him and managed to knock them both over. Wesker landed backwards with Chris straddling his waist haphazardly. Chris had accidentally pinned Wesker's right hand with his knee but the left was free and punching at Chris wildly.

Chris dodged the punches and landed one across Wesker's left cheek. Chris dodged another punch and got a second hit in before Wesker dislodged his trapped hand and quickly overpowered Chris. Wesker was stronger than Chris in more ways than one and was easily able to flip them over. Chris attempted to shove his knee between them to get Wesker off but he just wasn't that flexible and Wesker left no room between himself and Chris.

"This isn't necessarily what I expected but it will do," Wesker said, hands defending Chris' lacking punches easily.

Chris ignored him and struggled backwards until a blow to the side had him twisting into himself. He groaned and attempted to block a punch to the jaw but failed and it landed against his jawline.

"Twisted bastard," Chris growled.

Chris used all the weight he could muster to knock the blond off of him. It wasn't smooth and the blond fell with more grace than expected but Chris had gotten him off. Chris flipped around and tackled him once again. He swiftly fought strong kicking legs and the limber body beneath him before settling over him once again.

"Whatever you need to say to me, say it! I'm tired of this, Wesker!" Chris hissed, blocking a flying arm.

"I have said all I needed to say, Christopher. I believe it is you who needs to say something, don't you agree?"

"No, I don't agree. You're full of it, you know that?" Chris hissed throwing a blow to Wesker's cheek again. "You think you're so great, don't you? The great Captain Albert Wesker. Untouchable. That's BULLSHIT," Chris growled. "You want me to treat you like a human instead of a captain? _Act_ human. You're nothing but a machine doing what Irons tells you to do and you think I'm the exact same thing. You think I'm a machine that follows orders but I'm not—"

Wesker grabbed Chris' right hand by the wrist and when Chris' left came flying, he copied the action.

Chris pulled but the grip held strong.

"On the contrary, I hired you because you _aren't_ a tool and I refuse to continue to use you as such. I wanted this passion, Christopher," Wesker's voice turned hushed and the man spoke under his breath as he said, "I rarely ever get to see it anymore, after all."

Chris froze and sat back.

Wesker released his wrists.

If it wasn't for the sudden punch across his cheek that sent Chris jolting to the right and falling from Wesker, he surely would have called the blond a liar or questioned him or _something_. Instead, he rolled out of reach across the padded floor and sat up on his knees.

He stood unsteadily.

Wesker gracefully rose to his feet and brushed himself off.

Neither spoke.

The team remained silent and still.

Chris held his bruising stomach as he turned on his heel and left.

* * *

Nobody followed him.

He remained sitting in the office for the remainder of the hour, mind wandering and eyes glued to the desktop screen that said something about one of his previous missions that he didn't remember. His chin was swelling and his fingers frequently danced on the skin that ached there. His stomach was sore and he was sure it was turning a lovely shade of blue. His side had an equal throb of pain that was shared with his fists that obviously hadn't been worked with enough to handle something so… physical.

He questioned Wesker's intent for the whole damn thing. Had he really wanted Chris to release all the pent up anger? Chris scoffed—the blond obviously didn't know just how much anger was there under the worry and confusion of the young brunet.

And what the hell did Wesker mean? He wanted to see passion?

Chris sighed. The man's games were becoming even more ridiculous. Chris was almost missing the completely evil blond—at least he was sloppy then. His head isn't being persuaded by the T-virus. Wesker is, mostly, in control and able to put up a façade.

Chris just can't seem to upkeep a calm, collected, unknowing appearance.

When he was beginning to hear the rustle of people returning, Christ almost ran.

He stood, had a hand gripped on the coat hanging on the back of his chair, and almost left.

But he released his jacket and took a seat and when his team members walked in he ignored them. Each person walked past him or by him but nobody stopped to question him or ask his wellbeing. They all sat and continued their work.

Wesker, on the other hand, was one of the last to enter. He stepped into the office, took several striding steps, and stopped somewhere near Chris.

"A word?"

Chris sighed and stood.

The blond led the way to his office, Chris walking grudgingly behind him. Chris stepped into Wesker's office first and allowed the blond to close the door. Chris crossed his arms and watched Wesker close the blinds of his office so the only light came from the lamp hanging above his desk.

"What is this about?"

"You walked out of a necessary—"

"You hit m—"

"QUIET!" Wesker snapped. It had been so long since Chris had heard Wesker shout let alone in anger. "For once, Christopher, stay silent. Allow someone to finish a thought without you rushing in and making assumptions."

Chris stepped back and his heel hit the wall opposite of the door. Chris leaned back against the cold wallpaper and tightened his crossed arms. He remained quiet.

"I am quickly growing tired of your insubordination, Christopher. Your recent actions have increasingly grown troublesome with not only me but S.T.A.R.S as well. I have repeatedly attempted to relate to you and assist you in moving past whatever you seem to be holding me responsible for and you have refused every single turn," Wesker spoke calmly though his Captain voice was loud and clear. Somewhere during his speaking, he began pacing back and forth across his office as if he was completely unable to stand still.

Chris stayed silent and Wesker continued after a brief pause.

"I cannot have you doing this, Christopher. I cannot cover for you only to have you turn around and disobey me. I am your captain. You must have respect for me. If I don't see a change I will take action."

"Action?" Chris responded quickly.

"Yes. This is a job, Christopher. I understand you may frequently forget your place here in S.T.A.R.S but you are simply a piece of many. You are valuable, yes, but you are not invaluable."

"And you are?"

Wesker gave a dry chuckle but didn't respond.

Chris allowed the silence to hang between them. Both could hear the S.T.A.R.S team through Wesker's closed door working about within the office. Sounds of typing, laughter, and conversation seeped through but Chris barely heard any of it. He was far more focused on how ridiculous this was.

Maybe he was challenging Wesker a little more than his younger self would—well, a lot more, really. Chris never truly challenged Wesker on anything until Wesker betrayed them. Nonetheless, suddenly he was showing a backbone and Wesker couldn't handle it? Chris scoffed under his breath and hung his head. It was already difficult to look at Wesker without glaring but _now_—

Chris felt the faint throb from his chin and almost smiled. Wesker was human—he was surely feeling the same thing. Chris glanced up to find a dark spot forming atop Wesker's left cheek where it was swelling. Wesker's right hand was mostly immobile and Chris realized it was most likely due to his landing on the damn thing. He even saw the blond holding it with his left hand and rubbing it carefully.

"You want to fire me because you hit me so I hit you back? Is that it?" Chris finally asked.

"Oh no, I wanted you to hit me. In fact, I would have preferred you hit me much harder than you did. You held back quite a bit," Wesker stated almost passively. "My reasoning lies in my statement. You could have simply obeyed my command and hit me as I instructed. Instead, you attempted insulting me before and during, and then you ran before my instruction ended. This is atop your numerous incidents last week."

"So what do you want from me, then? I'm tired of having these talks, Captain."

"A little bit of respect goes a long way, Christopher."

"Respect?" Chris snapped.

A heavy inhale and slow exhale calmed Chris _just_ enough. Just enough to where Wesker's surprised expression didn't toss him into a frenzy of anger. Instead, Chris tilted his head slightly and gave a single nod.

"You're right, I've lost respect for you."

"I don't need a reason why—"

"I wasn't going to give one," Chris replied sharply.

Another dark chuckle from Wesker.

"I do have a question, however," Wesker began.

Chris internally smirked.

"An answer for an answer."

"Very well," Wesker stated slowly. "What will it take to return our relationship to its previous state?"

"Captain, you're my boss. I trust you to watch my back and you trust me to follow orders. We know that works—what's so wrong with that? We were never friends. We are colleagues."

Wesker paused and Chris exchanged glanced with him in the silence.

"We weren't always like this, Christopher."

"I understand that. I remember."

"Very well," Wesker repeated.

The blond motioned to Chris.

"What happened to that guy you spoke to at the restaurant last week?" Chris asked slowly.

It was something that had been on his mind for a period of time. The man hadn't looked like anyone Chris knew was related to Wesker so how could the man have _reminded_ Wesker of anyone? Perhaps it was someone undocumented from Umbrella but Chris didn't quite believe that. Chris wanted to make sure the man wasn't dead—or worse turned into some science experiment.

Of course, Wesker wouldn't outright tell Chris if the unknown man was captured or killed but Chris wasn't stupid enough to believe one of Wesker's lies.

Wesker's eyebrows rose at the question.

"I know you saw me watching you. I didn't want to go home that night but I didn't want to talk to you—anyway, I just want to know," Chris said, ending the sentence as strongly as possible.

"I slept with him," Wesker shrugged.

Chris blinked at the statement.

"I apologize for the bluntness but—"

"No… I was the one who made the mistake of asking."

Another cloud of silence and Wesker exhaled heavily.

"Don't make me fire you, Christopher. I would truly rather not. As I said, you are valuable."

"I understand."

"Very well, you may return to your work," Wesker stated dismissively.

"Sir," Chris said with a light nod before quickly exiting Wesker's office.


End file.
